


The Doctor and Rose: A Tale in Three Waltzes

by SelenaTerna



Series: Nine x Rose canon divergent fics [1]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: And Of Course - Freeform, Angst, Culture, F/M, Humour, Insecurity, Jack being Jack, Literature, Music, Romance, Self-Doubt, Sharing, Waltzing, and did I mention there was Waltzing?, the Doctor opens up a little, the odd waltz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:08:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22077475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SelenaTerna/pseuds/SelenaTerna
Summary: The Doctor takes Rose on a journey of magical, musical discovery. They may just end up discovering other things, too.
Relationships: Ninth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Series: Nine x Rose canon divergent fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589179
Comments: 102
Kudos: 107





	1. Lagunen-walzer

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovely people! HAPPY NEW YEAR! 
> 
> So last year was pretty shite in many ways and I wasn't able to write nearly as much as I wanted to. I'm hoping that this year will be different and so I'm starting as I mean to go on. This is the first chapter of a fic I've had swirling around in my head for over a year, and I couldn't work out how I wanted to to do it. It's certainly gone in a different direction than I had anticipated (the characters insisted on going far deeper than I had intended). I hope you all like it nonetheless (or at least don't hate it!). Next chapter will hopefully one up in the next few days.
> 
> The idea for this fic came to me when I was twirling around the house to one of my favourite Russian Waltzes (which I may or may not be obsessed with).
> 
> Many thanks to Rose_Neubla for the beta/read-through, and thanks to goingtothetardis for helping me brainstorm the title (and helping me fight the stupid technology).
> 
> Links to the two waltzes in this chapter are here:
> 
> [Blue Danube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_CTYymbbEL4>Blue%20Danube</a>%0A%0Aand%20%0A%0A%20%20<a%20href=) and [Lagunen Walzer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tuCDnTfvIJ0)
> 
> And now, on with the show!

_Rose had never thought very much about classical music one way or the other, let alone considered that said music would have much impact on her life. She’d certainly never considered that it would come to narrate some of the most important moments of her life on the TARDIS._

_But surprisingly, it did._

_It all started quite innocently, really- the Doctor tinkering with the TARDIS on a lazy day to the strains of music she didn’t know, Jack’s bull-in-the-china-shop approach to enthusiasm and her utter terror of looking stupid in front of the Doctor- and it all progressed from there to something very unexpected._

* * *

**_First Movement: Da Capo_ **

* * *

“Come on Rosie, just one itty bitty waltz?”

Rose rolled her eyes and slouched further into the pilot’s seat with her magazine. “Yeah, no thanks.”

“Come on!” Jack wheedled, sidling up. “I know just the tune to get you gliding!”

The soft, anonymous background classical music that had been playing in the console room suddenly switched to a tune she recognised.

“Wait, what?” Rose snorted with laughter. “Oh my God, this is the music from the duck cartoon.”

“The duck what now?” Jack blinked in confusion.

“When I was little, there was this cartoon, a mummy duck, three ducklings and a random tagalong. This was the theme music and the mummy duck made them quack in time to it, but the little black duckling at the end always honked and they got mad at him, and in the end he turned out to be a swan….” She trailed off at the baffled look on Jack’s face. “Never mind. Anyway, this music always makes me think of that. What is it?”

“It’s the _Blue Danube_ , written by that whiny little sod Johann Strauss in 1866.” The Doctor slid out from under the console, wiping his hands on an oily cloth as he strode across the room. “Never happy with anything, that one. He originally wrote the Blue Danube as a choral piece, didn’t take off so well, but the waltz did, and is he happy? No, he bloody whines about the choral being ignored. Dunno what he was on about - even now, that sodding waltz is famous. Can’t help tripping over it every now and then.”

“Right, like in the cartoon.” Rose nodded as she turned back to her magazine, a bit embarrassed that all she knew about this apparently famous music was that she’d seen it in a kid’s cartoon. She’d been getting more than a little sensitive about the sorts of things that apparently everyone else knew and she didn’t, especially after her recent run-in with Chaucer, and the misunderstanding about Jane Eyre with a very offended Brontë sister. She’d tried not to let it bother her, tried to learn as much as she could from their travels and the Doctor, but… moments like this just showed her how little she knew, even for a human of her time, and it was humiliating. 

It also reminded her just how far out of her league the Doctor was. He knew something about everything, and even other aliens deferred to him- when they weren’t trying to kill him, that was. But it was obvious that the Time Lords, no matter what the Doctor said (or didn’t say), were legendary in their knowledge, that the Doctor was an awesome being who’d seen so much, done so much, _learned_ so much. And he was a genius. 

And what was she? A nobody from a council estate, that’s what. There was more chance of her marrying this Strauss bloke than there was of the Doctor even looking at her that way.

And that hurt. 

“Like in your cartoon,” the Doctor agreed, bringing her back to the moment as he shrugged into his jacket. “Nice sort of thing to have playing while you’re fixing bibs and bobs, actually. Very soothing, is Strauss.” 

Rose shrugged uncomfortably. “ Wouldn’t know. I dunno anything about classical music.”

Jack stared. “Wait, so you didn’t even recognise _this_ piece?”

The music switched back to the original track that had been playing while Jack was dancing.

Rose shook her head, cheeks burning at his obvious shock. “Nope, sorry. Never heard it before.”

“But…but it’s the _Lagunen-Walzer!”_ Jack sputtered. “One of Strauss’ best! It’s so famous, it’s one of the top must-knows in the Time Academy! They made us learn it _and_ how to waltz to it!”

Rose shrugged defensively, hiding her blush behind the magazine. “Yeah, well, I never went to the Time Academy, did I?”

“But Strauss is famous in your time!” Jack protested, failing to see the warning look in the Doctor’s eyes. “They have concerts at Covent Garden …and those primitive discs...CC’s? CBs?…and...and your BBC classical radio plays him a lot! I saw it all in the data banks!”

Rose exhaled. “I wouldn’t know. Not a lot of call for the classical stuff in Peckham.”

“But-”

“Harkness,” the Doctor growled. “Enough.”

“But Strauss was a lot closer to your time than mine! By a few thousand years at least! Why don’t you know him?”

Rose snapped her magazine shut and stood, her cheeks burning. “Because ‘m a stupid chav from the Estate, and I dunno anything about classical music or any of that stuff, that’s why! I can’t tell you a Mozart from a Beethoven and I’ve never heard of this….this lag….lagoon…this music. Alright?”

And with that, she stormed out of the console room, burning with embarrassment and shame at having shouted at Jack for her own stupidity.

Behind her, she could hear the Doctor berating Jack.

Somehow, it made her feel even worse.

* * *

_**Second Movement: Espressivo** _

* * *

Not long after, there was a frantic knock at the door.

“Go ‘way Jack!” She called from her bed. And then, feeling a bit guilty because really, it wasn’t _his_ fault, she added, “‘M not mad, just, please, go away, yeah? Just….need a bit.”

“But Rosie, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I was just excited to hear something that they’d taught us back in….look I don’t think you’re stupid or….or whatever it is you’re thinking in there. Really, I don’t.”

She sighed. “S’fine, Jack. ’S just….I don’t feel like talking to anyone just now.”

They both knew that by ‘anyone’, she meant the Doctor. Knowing how she felt about the Doctor, and how hopeless the whole thing was, Jack knew she had an absolute terror of looking ignorant or stupid in front of him and this time he’d painted agreat big sign on her forehead saying ‘stupid chav.’

To say nothing of her having stormed out of the room like a child in a snit.

“Rosie….” He sighed. “He doesn’t think you’re stupid anymore than I do, OK? You should’ve heard him just now. He wiped the floor with me and threatened to shoot me out the airlock if I didn’t get my shapely butt over here and apologise.”

Rose smiled sadly. As nice as it was that the Doctor was worried about her feelings, she knew he was only doing it because he didn’t want her hurt. Not because he thought she was any kind of clever. And that hurt, not that it was anyone’s fault but hers.

“Jack, just….please, give me some time to be embarrassed in here and then I’ll come and out we can watch a movie and pretend this never happened, OK?”

He sighed. “Rosie.” 

She said nothing.

“Fine, just….please Rosie, don’t think this in anyway affects how either of us feel about you.”

“Yeah,” was all she could get out.

Another sigh, and then footsteps.

She’d been lying there for no more than five minutes when another knock sounded.

“Jack, I’m fine, I told you, I just want some time to rest.”

A throat cleared. “”S not Jack.”

Oh, God, even worse. Was she destined to make a complete arse of herself _all_ day? The last thing she wanted was the Doctor’s pity after her little scene in the console room.

He knocked again. “Rose?”

“I-”

“Please, can I come in? Tray’s gettin’ a bit heavy.”

“No, please, I just want to- tray? What tray?”

“That a yes then?”

She sighed. If she didn’t say yes, he’d probably just open the door one way or another. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.

“Yeah, alright. Come in.”

A few thuds later, the door opened and the Doctor came in carrying a rattling tray with a full tea service and….

“Are those scones?” She sat up.

“Yep, fresh scones with fresh strawberry jam and clotted cream.” Setting the tray carefully down on the bedside table, he pulled up his usual wingback chair and sat down. “You want one scone or two?”

She stared at him in confusion, seemingly unable to get any words out. “I…”

“Best make it two,” he cut in, pouring her tea and preparing it exactly as she liked- with honey and lemon.

Taking the cup and saucer, she choked a little on seeing the pattern. He’d bought her that tea service after her first trip to Georgian England, when she’d had tea with Jane Austen and fallen in love with the woman’s crockery. 

So he’d bought her a similar set.

“Sommat wrong with the tea?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow as he handed her a plate of scones with generous dollops of cream and jam.

“No,” she managed, putting the scones down on the table (had it gotten _bigger?_ ). “’S perfect. Just….you didn’t have to do all this.”

“It’s your favourite,” he shrugged, waving a hand over the spread. “See? Rose’s favourite china, Rose’s favourite tea, Rose’s favourite scones and Rose’s favourite jam.”

“Yeah,” she muttered, scrubbing a rough hand across her eyes. “But you didn’t have to…wait, where did you get the scones?”

“How d’you know I didn’t make ‘em?” He raised an eyebrow.

“There’s no way you could’ve!”

“Why not?” he demanded, both eyebrows raised and looking down his nose at her haughtily. “Time Lord, me. Think I can’t manage an elementary British tea treat?”

“Come off it!” She smiled, knowing that had been his aim all along. “You wouldn’t have had the time!”

“What part of _Time Lord_ did you miss, Rose?” He sniffed, folding his arms in contrived disdain. 

“Not buying it!” She laughed. “Now ‘fess up, where did you get ‘em?”

He muttered something under his breath.

“What’s that?” She smiled. “Didn’t quite catch that, Doctor.”

“I said, I might’ve made a quick stop at a certain bakery in Oxford,” he said gruffly.

“Oh!” She beamed, reaching for her plate. “Not that little place near the Uni?”

“Might be,” he allowed, watching her take a happy bite before turning to his own tea.

They chewed happily in silence until they’d demolished every last scone and Rose thought she might never look at a cup of tea again. Setting her plate down, she finally turned to look the Doctor in the eye. 

“Thank you,” she said softly. “You really didn’t have to do this.”

The Doctor shrugged, carefully loading the used crockery back onto the tray and depositing it on the table. “Looked like you could use a cuppa.”

“‘M ok,” she shrugged trying to sound convincing. “Was just bein’ silly an’ overreacted a bit. I should go and apologise to Jack.”

The Doctor snorted. “I reckon he’ll be just fine. He has enough ego to sustain a small planet.”

Rose smiled, in spite of herself. “Doctor!”

“What? It’s true!”

She shook her head. “Even if it were- an’ it’s not so you wipe that smile off your face, Mister!- I still need to apologise. I shouldn’t have snapped at him, ’s not his fault.”

The Doctor leaned back in his chair, eyebrows raised. “Thought you said there was nothin’ wrong?”

“I-”

“Rose,” he interjected. “I‘m not blind, me.”

Her cheeks flamed and she looked away. “I know.”

He was silent for a moment. Then he cleared his throat. “Did I ever tell you that, at one point, I held the record for most disciplines earned at the Academy?”

Rose, not expecting this, jerked her eyes to his in shock. “No…you didn’t.”

“Well, I did.”

She couldn’t help smiling a little. “Bit of a rebel, were you?”

“Oh, I was that and a half, me. Always runnin’ off to see what was what, always pokin’ my nose into things I shouldn’t. I didn’t ‘comport myself like a proper Time Lord,’ didn’t care about the politics, hated how aloof they were, and how they looked down on everyone else. When I got old enough, I nicked this lovely lass here,” and here he rubbed the nearest wall affectionately, “or maybe she nicked me and went off into the great black yonder. I was away more than I was there, you see. I developed this great fascination with a certain planet and a certain group of apes, and my people didn’t like that.”

Rose was transfixed. He’d never talked about… _before_. Not like this. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Was called back and disciplined more times than I care to count. Was exiled to earth at one stage, too.”

“You were?”

“Yep.” He shifted, leather jacket creaking. “I could give you a whole list of reasons, but the bottom line was, they thought I was a bit of a waste, actually.”

“What? You?” She gaped. “But you…you’re brilliant! You know so much, and you help people!”

“Well, I was a lot younger then, you know. Even Time Lords weren’t…well, _born_ , let's say…knowing it all. I didn’t know much compared to a lot of the others. Even now, I reckon there were more than a few I’d never stack up to, brain-wise and book-wise.”

“You?”

“Me.” He shifted forward. “My people were intellectuals Rose. Logically brilliant and rational, an ancient people that had learned more about anything you’d care to name than just about any other species in the universe. I wasn’t much of anything, compared to a lot of them. Average, maybe slightly above. Maybe if I’d stayed more, immersed myself more in the research, the learning, the politics, applied myself, as they used to say, maybe I’d have been a bit more. But I didn’t and I wasn’t. As for doin’ good, as you put it - they didn’t care for that at all, let me tell you.”

“But why?” She was baffled. “They should’ve been proud of you and what you do!”

A small smile softened his mouth for a moment. “You’re so sure of that? Even in my younger days?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “I know you, Doctor. I mean, I know you can be a stupid arse just as much as the next bloke-”

“Oi!”

“- but you always try to make the right choices. Even when there’s only bad choices to choose from.” She looked him in the eye as she said it, knowing how the choice he’d had to make to end the war haunted him.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, his blue eyes intent on her before he cleared his throat and looked away. “Well, wish I could say Borusa and the rest of the gits on the Council saw it that way. What you call ‘helpin’, they called ‘interference,’ and it wasn’t allowed.”

“How come?” Rose frowned, her own petty concerns long forgotten in the wake of his story. “What’s wrong with helpin’?”

“Well, the short answer is the Time Lords interfered a lot, in the old days, and caused more than a few disasters. Even after violence was forbidden, they still managed to cock it up- gave technology to people who couldn’t handle it and accidentally wiped the lot of them out. Thought they were helpin’, but it wiped them out just the same. A few other disasters like that, and their beloved policy of non-interference was born. It was practically a sacred duty taught from the cradle- _Time Lords observe and never interfere_.”

She exhaled. “I …s’pose I understand why, but…but it still seems wrong, so cold. Just because somebody made some bad decisions before doesn’t mean no one should make any decisions ever again!”

The Doctor smiled a little at that. “Seem to remember saying exactly that a few times.”

“Yeah?” She swallowed nervously. “I’m guessin’ it didn’t go down too well.”

“An' you’d be right. Didn’t go down well at all.”

She frowned. “Y’know…no offence or anythin’, but…..”

He raised an eyebrow. “But?”

She blushed. “Well, it seems like your….your people were really clever and everything, and knew so much but…well, it kind of seems like they were happier keepin’ themselves in a vacuum rather than ever be forced into a position where they might have to face makin’ another mistake. Isn’t that just…selfish? Just bein’ proud?”

“Always with the right questions, Rose,” He said gruffly, the look in his eyes making her heart pound a little faster. “That’s exactly it. If you want to learn from your mistakes, you have to admit you’ve made a mistake in the first place. Have to be willing to face up to it, see where you’ve gone wrong, what you could’ve done better. And you have to admit that you might just make another one next time, that there might possibly something you don't know. Hidin’ away from that, not wantin’ to ever admit you could’ve made a mistake….it’s _only_ about pride.” He snorted. “My people did pride very well. They were known for it.”

She smiled, eyes glinting. “That why you’ve got such a healthy ego yourself, then?”

“Oi!”

 _“Genius, me,”_ she mimicked.

“Well, I am!” He protested.

“Yeah, I know,” she smiled.

They were both silent for a moment.

“You’ve picked it, though, Rose. It was cold pride, pure and simple and that pride made them isolate themselves. They excluded anything like emotion or sentiment from day to day life. Emotion was…frowned upon- it was unnecessary, immature. _Emotion leads to rash decisions, only cool logic is wise_.” He snorted. “Sorry blighters, the lot of us.”

“What, you mean like the Vulcans on Star Trek?”

He shook his head. “Why you insist on watching that made-up…but yeah, close enough. Not quite as flat in their speech, mind you. They did the booming, stately anger bit pretty well when they wanted to.”

“That sounds…hard,” she said hesitantly. “The detached bit.”

“Oh, it was. And I tried,” he said bluntly. “I tried for a long time.” He grinned. “Course, I wasn’t very good at it.”

Privately, she thought that while he might not be good detachment proper, at staying out of things or being devoid of emotion, he was pretty good at keeping everyone else out, keeping himself separate. Of course, she wasn’t going to say that- not now that he’d opened up to her, really opened up to her about his past for the first time.

“That’s something that I really admire about you humans, you know.”

“What is?”

He shrugged. “The emotion, feeling, the way you really throw yourselves into everything and everyone you’re invested in. The way you’re capable of makin’ good, rational decisions (not that you’d know it to look at your history as a planet, mind) but you don’t stop yourselves from feeling from helping, making choices based on the moral good, on compassion ….Your humanity, I suppose.”

Rose tilted her head. “I s’pose I’ve never thought of it that way.”

“Most don’t. Even among you humans, everybody is so focused on status and position and showing off who has the most learning, when really, when you get down to it, it’s all so much rubbish.”

“Oh come on, Doctor,” she protested, thinking she could see where he was going. “You can’t tell me that, comin’ from a planet full of…of geniuses, that learning is rubbish.”

“Didn’t say it was. What I am sayin' is measuring your worth as a race, or as person, for that matter, by the level or amount of knowledge you have, or the technology you have, or wealth or status you think you have- _that_ is rubbish.”

She shook her head in bafflement. “I don’t….what are you saying?”

He sat up, looking at her intently. “Learning's a great thing Rose. Knowledge is fantastic. But it’s not _what_ you are. It’s something you can attain, something that grows as you get on in life if you work at it. Status is something useful if you use it properly, and wealth the same, but they can be won or lost as easy as breathing. Those things, useful as they are, they’re not what defines you. Know what is?”

She shook her head mutely.

“Values, Rose. Your traits and values. Honesty, courage, curiosity. A thirst for knowledge, a willingness to learn. A willingness to help. And most of all, Rose, kindness. That’s vital, that is.”

Rose swallowed, unable to speak.

The Doctor gently took one of her hands in his and she shivered slightly at their coolness. “When I was a young, arrogant sod, I didn’t know anything about anything. I knew what they’d taught me in the Academy, thought I knew it all, better than anyone. And then I started travelling and learned I had it all wrong.”

“You did?” She managed.

“I did. Oh, I knew the history, the science, but I didn’t know or understand the people- how they worked, what they felt, how they thought or why. And the why is the most important question.” He squeezed her hand. “ _You_ do, though.”

“Me? I don’t even know half the aliens or planets we-”

“And yet you still manage to grasp what makes them tick, what they really want, how to talk to them.” He barked a laugh. “I’m just the bloke with the encyclopaedia, you’re the one who knows how to connect with them.”

“But you…you know all those laws…and the history…and the Shadow Proclamation decrees and-”

“Rose, I’ve been around for nigh on 900 years now. You…you’re twenty years old.” He smiled. “By your human standards, that’s very, very young and you still have your whole life ahead of you to learn whatever you want.” He snorted. “Won’t even tell you how young twenty is by my standards.”

“It’s not the same thing, though.” She felt compelled to point out.

“You’re right, it isn’t. But do you understand what I’m saying Rose?”

“You-” She swallowed. “You’re saying I shouldn’t worry about not knowin'…everything, because I’m still young. I have time.”

He nodded emphatically.

“But I just...I don’t like not knowin' things! I don’t want to feel like there’s all this stuff I should know and I don’t even know what it is! I want to learn!”

He grinned. “So learn.”

“I’m trying! Everything on our trips and I’ve been reading but I feel like I’ll never catch up!”

“No one knows everything Rose,” he pointed out. “Not even me. That’s part of the fun.”

“But how do you know where to start?” She said, frustrated. “That’s what makes it so hard. I mean, you had the Academy, Jack had the Time Academy. The posh kids had public schools with all the curriculums and concerts and operas and plays and we had teachers who barely managed to keep us in class!” She blinked back angry tears. “And they never…they didn’t treat us like we mattered, because we weren’t going to come to much anyway. You all had a place to start from, to keep learnin' from. I feel like…I don’t even know what I don’t know and I’ll never catch up with anyone and I’ll always be a stupid chav for it.”

“Here now,” he said quietly. “I won’t have that, me. You’re not stupid, Rose. Far from it. You’re quick and clever as they come.”

“But I don’t know _anything,”_ she said, unable to hide her hurt at something she knew would always set her apart from the Doctor. “And I definitely don’t know classics or the things that everybody else seems to know.”

“Who’s everybody?” He cocked his head and looked at her consideringly. “And it’s not true anyway. You know Jane Austen and her works. You’ve read a few of them by now, too.”

“Yes, but-” 

“And you’ve read all of Charlie Boy’s work too, haven’t you?”

“Yeah…”

“And now you’ve heard two pieces of music by that irritating sod Strauss.”

She barked a harsh laugh. “Yeah.”

“You’ve read a few poems by that sap Tennyson too, lately haven’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“And that’s not saying anything about your grasp of human history and the future. Not many can say that.” He lifted an eyebrow.

She laughed again, more softly this time. “Yeah, I s’pose not.”

“There you are then.”

“But 's not..everyone seems to know so much more!”

“Well, learn more then. What do you want to know?”

She frowned. “I don’t…”

“Well, what do you want to learn about? No one has read everything.” He shrugged. “People get exposed to things, focus on what they like and ignore the rest, usually, when it comes to music and literature.”

“They do? Really?”

“Course they do!”

“Doesn't seem like it sometimes.” She blushed. “I used to hear them talking at Henrick’s, you know. The customers. Off to concerts and plays, Shakespeare and Dickens and Mozart… I never had any idea what they were talkin’ about, half the time and it made me feel….less.”

“That’s why some people do it,” he said quietly. “Education is one way of keepin’ certain people exactly where you want them and some people like to remind others that they think they’re better because of the education they’ve had.” He shrugged. “Others just like the arts and they like talking about them. They don’t mean anythin' by it.”

She exhaled. “I s’pose.”

“Do you _want_ to learn more about classical music?”

“I dunno” She frowned. “I feel like I should, but I dunno really. I mean, I’ve never heard much of it. Always sort of seems to be light, airy, fluffy sort of stuff and it’s nice and all, but…”

“But it doesn’t really do much for you?”

“No.” She flushed. “S’pose that shows how _common_ I am, or something.”

“Here, none of that. Rose Tyler. You…you’re fantastic.” His eyes burned blue fire. “The very best. And I only take the best.”

She gave him a sad little smile, remembering what he’d said to Adam as they left him. “Adam thought I was stupid too.”

“Adam wanted to use a hair dryer to fight off a Dalek.” He scoffed. “I wouldn’t be too worried about what he thinks.”

“He what?” She burst out laughing. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope, not joking. Anyway, leaving Adam the Weasel aside,” he grinned at her admonishment, “and gettin' back to the music. There’s nothing wrong with not liking certain things, you know. The whole point of music is to inspire feelings or a reaction of some kind.”

She’d stopped laughing by then, her insecurities bubbling back to the surface. “So I’m never going to like classical music because it doesn’t make me feel things?”

“Course not. Just means you haven’t found the right stuff for you. There’re millions of works out there Rose, just waiting for you to find them.”

She sighed, feeling less than hopeful. “Where would I even start, then? How will I even know?”

“Trial and error Rose, trial and error. You've already found a few bits you don't like. We can pay a visit to Beethoven for starters, and see what happens there. I reckon you’ll recognise more than you think you will, you know. A lot more. And I reckon you may just surprise yourself.”

“You think so?” She asked wistfully.

“I know so,” he told her firmly. 

“I…yeah, alright,” she said. “I’ll try.”

“That’s more like it,” he said, standing. “All right then? No more hiding? We can go out and stop Jack molestin’ my ship?”

“Yeah. Thanks Doctor,” she said softly, hoping he understood what she meant. 

“Nothing a cup of tea can’t fix,” was all he said, gathering the tray and turning to leave.

Suddenly, though there was one more thing she had to know. ”Doctor,” she said, chewing her lip nervously.

“Yes, Rose?”

“I…” She swallowed. “I…can I ask you a question?”

“Course, I love questions, me. Been known to ask a few meself.”

“Right. I just...I was wonderin’…what…what was your planet called?”

He froze.

“Please,” she said softly, not even knowing why she needed to know so much.

He took so long to answer she thought he was going to refuse. Finally, however, he inhaled and spoke very, very quietly. 

“Gallifrey. It was called Gallifrey.”


	2. Broken Strings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and Rose explore Russian classical culture together...and end up finding much more than they expected. Much, much more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my lovelies! Guess who has FINALLY managed to get this fic moving again? It only took months of trying and begging the muse and signing up to the WIP Big Bang event to finally get it all going, and so...ta-da! I give you...chapter 2! Fair warning, this is a LONG chapter (about 10k). In even more shocking news, the third and final chapter will be posted on Monday (GASP! Yes, the muse has condescended and I am currently rewriting and madly editing bits of the third chapter). 
> 
> Chapter 2 is, in many ways, the crux of this story, and it's the lynchpin that leads us to chapter 3 and resolutions, etc. This chapter revolves around two particular pieces of music: Rimsky-Korsakov's [ Scheherazade](https://youtu.be/jR_Q7NbLzyU) and Gapon's [ Broken Strings waltz.](https://youtu.be/mj9UWeMMpy4)
> 
> As you've no doubt gathered, I have a huge emotional connection with both these pieces of music and they are VERY important to me, so I've tried very hard to capture their essence in this chapter. I cannot recommend them enough and I abolsutely recommend that you listen to them both. Scheherazade is quite long (about 45 mins in total), so if you can't listen to the whole thing, I'd suggest at least the first part (about ten minutes), but if you can listen to it all, I promise you won't regret it. Just close your eyes and...gah, just listen! So good. Broken Strings is quite short- about two and a half minutes and so...hard hitting. Just amazing. Of course, the versions I've provided from YouTube are not going to be as good quality as things you find streaming platforms and yes, they are both on Spotify. :)
> 
> I've also linked the dresses that Rose is wearing to the [ concert](https://www.instagram.com/p/Bsdmb2kganK/?igshid=1fbk4ahka1i24) and to [the ball,](https://www.instagram.com/p/BtbJcDLgz4c/?igshid=wipa5asmme9f) for those who are interested. The ball gown is about 7 years too early, but eh, is my fic and I want Rose to wear it, hahaha!
> 
> Anyway, time to get on with the show- I really really hope you enjoy this chapter, which is so close to my heart (and consequently has caused me so much terror and angst). I hope I've been able to do it and the music justice. Huge, ginourmoius thanks to Rose_Nebula for her wonderful (and prompt and cheerful and encouraging) beta and support in getting this fic moving again. All mistakes are mine.

_To her surprise, Rose found that she really enjoyed exploring what she’d always considered ‘posh stuff’. The Doctor was ready and willing to take her anywhere, and the Artistic Stylings of Rosie and the Doc, as Jack called them, (or date night, as he called it when the Doctor was out of earshot) soon became a regular feature of life on the TARDIS._

_Funnily enough, the Doctor was right; she might not know what the music was called, or where certain famous lines were from, but she knew more than she thought she did._

_The music was the biggest surprise. From the apparently grumpy Strauss (“Wait, what’s this one? The Emperor’s Waltz? That was in Tom and Jerry!”), to Rossini‘s Barber of Seville (“I remember that one from Bugs Bunny!”), to Beethoven (“Wait, Ode to Joy! I know that!”), to Tchaikovsky (“So this is actually called the Sleeping Beauty Waltz? I remember this from the Disney movie!”), to Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyries (“This is the battle music they’re always playin’!”) she found she knew them all._

_She also learned that she liked some more than others. Some, like the Strauss, were nice enough, but they didn’t do anything for her. Some, like Beethoven she enjoyed a bit more, and some_ almost _gave her that emotional click she’d been craving...but not quite._

_And then the Doctor introduced her to Rimsky-Korsakov._

* * *

**_First Movement: Leggiero_ **

* * *

“Aren’t you going to change?”

The Doctor shrugged. “Nope. Told you before, perception filter. I never bother changing, me.”

Rose glanced down at her gold silk and tulle Edwardian evening gown and matching opera gloves, courtesy of the TARDIS wardrobe. “Isn’t mine a bit much, then?” She touched a hand lightly to the gold and pearl clip holding up her hair. “Reckon I'll feel a bit silly in all this if you’re in a leather jacket.”

“It’s not silly.” The Doctor’s gaze examined her slowly from head to foot. “Looks alright.”

She blushed, willing her heart to stay calm despite the intensity of his look. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “You like all that fussin’ up, anyway and I don’t care for it much meself. Better you than me!”

She sighed inwardly at yet another ‘almost compliment’. “Right, yeah. OK. We going, then?”

“Course, let me just sort out security.” He turned to Jack, who managed to make leaning on the doorframe seem seedy. “Don’t touch anything, don’t molest my ship and keep your hands to yourself.”

Rose bit her lip, trying not to laugh. 

“You say that every time Doc,” Jack sighed. “And everytime you come back and she’s fine. We get along, don’t we darling?” He rubbed the doorframe.

The TARDIS hummed, lights flickering.

“See, that there is what I’m talking about!” The Doctor folded his arms, leather jacket creaking, and scowled. “That’s _exactly_ what I’m talkin’ about!”

“Come on, Doctor.” Rose was very proud that she’d managed to speak without laughing. “Jack won’t hurt her and she can look after herself, can’t you love?”

Another hum.

The Doctor huffed. “That’s not the point. She shouldn’t have to put up with his nonsense- she’s not some space-junk speed hopper!” He caressed the railing possessively. “She’s special.”

“And I’ll pamper her like the queen she is, Doc, don’t you worry about that. You two kids go on and have fun, and don’t worry about a thing!” Jack managed to suppress his grin until he turned to Rose. “You look fabulous, Rosie honey! That looks like a real Edwardian number.” He frowned. “Looks kind of familiar actually…”

Rose shrugged. “I dunno, the TARDIS gave it to me.” 

“And you can’t fault her taste.” He scanned her head to foot and waggled his eyebrows. “ _Fabulous_ taste.”

The Doctor growled. “Can we cut the chit-chat? I thought we were going out.”

Jack smirked. “Don’t let me keep you. Just admiring Rosie’s dress. And everything in it.”

“Come on, Doctor.” Rose took his arm before it could turn into another argument. “You still haven’t told me where we’re goin’ yet!”

Glancing down at her, his gaze softened. “It’s a surprise, that.”

“Yeah?” Rose tilted her head. “What about _when?_ Is that a surprise, too?”

The Doctor smirked. “It might be.”

“Well, it has to be in the past.” She frowned. “Or maybe the future trying to be the past. Like when we went to the New Roman Empire.”

“Nope, it’s the genuine article, I’ll tell you that much.” The Doctor grinned. “You ready to see?”

“Yeah.” Rose beamed. Turning to Jack, she dropped a kiss on his cheek. “You be alright on your own?”

“Of course!” He drew her into a careful hug, mindful of her gown. “You two kids have fun and tell Uncle Jack all about it when you get back!”

“That’ll be the day,” the Doctor muttered, taking her hand and guiding her towards the TARDIS doors. “Catch me recountin’ my night to a pervert.”

“Not _a_ pervert, if you don’t mind!” Jack called after them. “ _The_ pervert!”

The Doctor rolled his eyes as he closed the door behind him. “Humble lad, isn’t he?”

Rose laughed. “Yeah, well, he’s not wrong. He’s probably the perviest perv to ever perv.”

“S’pose. No need to encourage him, though.” The Doctor straightened. “Now, forget about him and look around. What d’you think?”

Rose gazed at the familiar-looking city street, surrounded by imposing buildings and courtyards, filled with bustling people in old-fashioned evening dress on a warm summer’s evening. “I dunno. ‘S familiar, looks European... not Vienna, though...” She trailed off when she spotted the familiar iron tower, looking in the distance. “Paris!” She laughed in delight. “I came here once on a school trip when I was fifteen.” She tilted her head to the side. “If I told you it looks almost the same now as it did then, would you think I was mental? Well, this posh part does, anyway. Where are we?”

“ _Place de l'Opéra_ , and that’s the Palais Garnier, the main opera house during this time. And no, I wouldn’t. That’s just the way with some places, look like they belong to another time. And Paris is one of them.”

“We seein’ an opera, then?” Rose wasn’t sure how she felt about that. They hadn’t explored opera yet, she’d never really listened to any and she didn’t know if she’d like it.

“Not an opera.” The Doctor beamed. “The ballet!”

“A ballet?” She blinked, caught by surprise. “I’ve never seen a proper ballet.”

“Not just _a_ ballet, though, this one is special.”

She couldn’t help but smile at his excitement. “Is it? Why’s that, then?”

“Because, Rose,” He held out his arm. When she slipped her arm through his, suppressing the thrill in her stomach, he guided them to the majestic looking doors. “It’s the tale of Scheherazade.”

* * *

**_Second Movement: Cantata_ **

* * *

“I can’t believe we’re here.” Rose gazed in awe at the rich gilding and red velvet- covered seats and curtains of the lavishly furnished opera house. “This is just...it’s amazin’.” She peered at the crowds below. “Like a film or something. And look at all these people! Dressed to the nines!”

“Social rules of the day.” The Doctor settled back into his seat and folded his arms. “Dress code and all that. Not allowed in unless you’re dressed for the evening.”

Rose frowned. “Isn’t that...I dunno, a bit unfair? I mean, what if you can’t afford evenin’ togs?”

“‘Well, that’s part of why they did it, really. Opera was a common entertainment in the first half of the eighteenth century, you know.” He stretched out his legs, booted feet in front of him. “You could find it in just about any theatre, you’d wear your best, whatever it was, and that was that. People went to the theatres they could afford, of course, always ended up being separated by class, but still, you could get opera no matter who you were. Then it all changed mid-century when the upper classes tried to ‘elitify’ it again, took it out of the common theatres where you’d find your working class folk, and moved to the grander theatres that only the wealthy could afford. You had to wear certain clothes to get in, and so on. The middle classes could afford to go as time went on, o’course, especially as trade expanded, and they had more money. Goin’ to the opera and wearing your evening togs was a way of showin’ you were moving up in the world." He snorted "Bit ridiculous really- all these people sittin’ there in clothes that cost more than a working man’s monthly wage, world class singers puffin’ away on stage and nobody payin’ any attention to what they were there to see. Then, in the early 1900’s, cinema started making its mark and it was cheaper. You had to dress up in your Sunday best, at the least, but it didn’t demand togs people didn't have. That became the working man’s entertainment and opera stayed the plaything off the privileged few.”

Rose frowned. “That’s really digsutin’. I mean, I like dressin’ up for the evening. I like puttin’ in effort- shows you think where you’re goin’ is important and if I’m honest I wish we’d kept a bit more of that in my time.” She paused. “Well, maybe the posh people did, I dunno. But I don’t like clothes bein’ used to stop people seeing whatever art they want. Why can’t people just wear their best, whatever their best is? S’just another class barrier, just like the ticket prices the working class couldn’t afford.”

The Doctor gave her a small, soft smile. “Always with the right questions, Rose.”

“‘S just like using education to keep people down!“ she said indignantly. “Make it hard to get, restrict who can have it, and you keep all the power. Education is a good thing, but usin’ it to keep other people downtrodden is wrong.”

“Exactly.” The Doctor beamed. 

“I don’t think I like ‘now’ so much after all.” Rose huffed. “So when _is_ now, anyway?”

“It’s the fourth of June,1910.” 

“Right, OK. So what’s so special about this this ballet in Paris, in June 1910.” She frowned. “What’s it about? The name sort of sounds familiar but I can’t think why.”

“Well, it’s not a ballet, really- least, it wasn’t originally. It’s an orchestral piece written by a drama-obsessed Russian bloke by the name of Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov. Wrote it in 1888.” He cleared his throat. “Tonight it’s bein’ performed as a ballet for the very first time, by the Bolshoi Ballet.”

Rose’s eyes grew wide. “The Russian Ballet? Aren’t they supposed to be the most famous dancers in the world?”

“One of, yeah.”

She swallowed, unable to believe he’d made such an effort to bring her to the very first time this music, whatever it was, had been performed as a ballet. He’d even managed to land on the right day, which alone was an achievement.

“So….” she exhaled, trying to settle herself. “What’s it about, then?”

“Interesting story, if a bit looney. The Shah Shariyar finds out that his first wife is unfaithful to him. He goes mad, and has her killed. Then he goes on a mad rampage and marries a new virgin every night and has her killed the next morning before she can betray him.”

“He _what?”_ Rose stared at him, aghast. “And this Rimsky person wrote music about this? Was _he_ mental?”

“Not quite.” The Doctor smiled. “He wrote the music about the heroine who stopped it. According to the story, the Grand Vizier to this nutter Shah has two daughters, you see. The eldest, Scheherazade, is brave and beautiful and intelligent, and she wants to end the slaughter, so she begs her father to offer her in marriage to the Shah. After the usual emotional guff, he does. The Shah is surprised, of course and reminds the Vizier that he’ll have to order his own daughter’s execution the next morning, same as the others, no exceptions. Wedding takes place and the nutter Shah is happy because she’s very beautiful, but he sees that she’s cryin’. He asks what’s wrong, of course, and she tells him she knows she had to die in the mornin’ but could she please see her younger sister one more time before she does?”

Rose stared, bemused. “And then what happens?” 

“Nutter Shah agrees, younger sister Dunyazad is brought in, and as instructed by her sister, she asks for one of the wonderfuls stories her sister is so famous for.” The Doctor shrugged. “Or something like that. Scheherazade tells a whoppin’ story and stops right at the crux, because it’s dawn and time to die. The Shah is dyin’ to know what happens next of course, so he postpones her execution to the following day and tells Dunyazad to come back for the rest of it. The next night, Scheherazade finishes the story and starts another, stopping at dawn again, right on a cliff-hanger. So he postpones her execution another day. And another, and another. She does this for a thousand and one nights, and by the end of it, of course, the Shah realises he’s fallen in love with her, drops the idea of killin’ her and stops his mad slaughter.”

Rose shook her head. “So that’s what this music is about? Stopping this lunatic from killin’ every girl in the kingdom?”

“In a way. It’s sort of a look at Scheherezade as she tells her stories. It starts off with the Shah stomping about, then Scheherazade comes in, and starts weaving her tales. It covers four of them- the Sea and Sindbad’s Ship, the Kalander Prince, the Young Prince and Princess and the Festival at Baghdad. Then it ends with the Shah and Scheherazade.” The Doctor raised a brow. “You’ll be pleased to know that she has the final word.”

“So she bloody well should!” Rose exhaled. “I can’t...who writes music about _that_? Blimey, who even writes stories about that? That’s just...mental!”

“Humans.” The Doctor shrugged. “You lot have made an entire culture of writing the barmiest, most convoluted horror and tragedy and turning it into high art. Look at your literature! Or opera, for that matter.”

“Don’t know any opera,” Rose muttered, flicking open her fan and fanning herself absently. “So... A Thousand and One Nights, then...they’re are all Scheherazade’s stories?”

“Well, according to legend and this story, yeah, s’pose they are. Most scholars reckon the whole lot came from India and Persia in the eighth century.”

“Right, but in the story, at the end, despite this nutter and everything that he does, it’s _her_ words that remain, yeah?”

“Yes.” The Doctor eyed her intently. “She was brave and brilliant and she put herself in danger to save other women from that nutter. And she did it.”

Rose nodded slowly, beginning to understand why he thought she might enjoy this. “S’pose I like that. That this is her story.”

“Thought you might.” The Doctor cleared his throat and shifted his eyes to the curtained stage. “I reckon you’ll like the music too, though.”

“How will I know who’s _talkin’_ though?” Rose wondered, feeling a bit silly. “I mean, there’s no speaking in this- just music and dancin’.”

The Doctor smiled, making her heart pound just a bit faster. “Oh, you’ll know, Rose. You’ll know. Look, it’s startin’.”

Sure enough, the red velvet drapes had swept back to reveal a stage full of dancers, posing gracefully as the audience applauded.

She jumped when a mighty fanfare blared out, majestic and imposing, with undertones of menace and rage, as the Shah strode menacingly across the stage. She watched, spellbound as he paused and what could only be described as a soft chorus of anticipation began, trilling hopefully. Before she could take another breath, the most beautiful notes she’d ever heard soared throughout the room as Scheherezade made her entrance. The strings were sensuous, melodic, pleading and _powerful_ , with an underlying strength she’d never have expected. In spite of herself, she stared, transfixed at the dancers on stage, the proud Shah as spellbound by Scheherazade’s story as she was, as the graceful dancer twirled and flowed to the exquisite melody. 

How could anything ever sound like this?

As Scheherazade began to spin her tale, Rose could see it more and more clearly, until, at last the music spoke in its full voice and she was carried away to Sinbad’s ship. She could see the crew, and Sinbad standing proudly as the world flew by, could feel the ship rocking over the waves.

Giving in to the music, she closed her eyes.

And soared.

* * *

**_Third Movement: Andante_ **

* * *

“So, what d’you think of that, then?” 

Rose leaned back against her seat and closed her eyes, trying to find the words. “I think…” She opened her eyes, jolting when she saw an intent blue gaze fixed on her. “I think that for the first time in my life, I understand what people mean about music speakin’ to them without havin’ a single word in it.” She exhaled. “I could _see_ it, Doctor. I could see the ship and the waves, the princes and princesses and jinns and… _all_ of it. I don’t even know these stories but it was like the music was tellin’ me and I…” She blushed. “I know it sounds mental but I feel like I know the story without knowing it! Does that make sense?”

“Yeah.” His small smile set her heart pounding. “It does. Come on, then, let’s get a move on.”

Taking his hand, she followed him slowly from the box, still reeling from the unexpectedly strong reaction she’d had to the music. “Do we have to go right back?”

“Course not. Time machine, Rose- we have all the time in the world.”

“I’m a bit keyed up.” She smiled sheepishly. “Reckon a stroll might help.”

“Course.” As they emerged into the courtyard, he automatically took her arm as they made their way up the street. “Best to blend in with the locals. Don’t want to get arrested for indecent handholding, or sommat.”

“Yeah.” She sighed, breathing in the balmy air, and immediately wished she hadn’t. Paris in the summertime had a distinct fragrance to it. “How did you know? That’ I’d like this music, I mean?”

“I didn’t, really. Took a punt on it when you liked the Tchaikovsky waltz better than the others. Seemed like something else in the Russian line was a step in the right direction.”

“Yeah, it just...”

“Got you?”

“Yeah!” She exhaled. “Or I got it. I never thought I could click with classical music that way, never thought I’d understand it, you know?”

He glanced down at her, eyebrow raised. “And I suppose that idea’s finally been put to bed, then?”

“Yeah.” She shook her head. “Who’d have thought it? Me at the opera house, in Paris! Watchin’ the Russian Ballet perform music I’ve never heard of, no less.”

“And why not?” He stopped, gently turning her towards him. “I told you Rose, art is for everybody and you just have to find the things that speak to you.” 

“Yeah but ‘s like…” She huffed impatiently, struggling to find the words to properly express her feelings. “Classical stuff’s always been like a language that everyone else can speak, but I can’t, no matter how hard I try.”

His eyes gleamed blue in the light of the streetlamp. “And now?”

“Now...” She blinked back unexpected tears. “Now it makes sense. That music _spoke_ to me, Doctor. I can’t...I’ve never heard anything like it.”

“I told you.” He smiled gently, the small smile that was hers alone. “Different people like different things. Maybe for someone else, Scheherezade wouldn’t have done it. But for you? It speaks.”

“That’s exactly it.” She exhaled. “It speaks. It spoke to me. An’ I understood it. It _got_ to me, and I felt all of it.” She barked a laugh. “I feel like I’ve been through the wringer, if you want to know.”

“Then I’m glad we came.” 

“Me too.” She glanced sideways. “Thank you. For bringin’ me.”

“Easy enough with the TARDIS,” was all he said. “I told you, Rose, she’s not just a London hopper.” 

She smiled.

They walked on in silence for a time, neither noticing a tall, familiar man in an RAF coat eyeing the Doctor’s leather jacket suspiciously before moving on.

“Doctor?”

“Yes, Rose?”

“What other Russian composers are there?”

He grinned. “Why d’you ask?”

“Well.” She blushed. “You said there were more Russian waltzes. I thought maybe...maybe I might like some of them more than Strauss.”

“You might do, yeah. Plenty of Russian waltzes to choose from, as it happens- it’s famous, the Russian waltz and there’s plenty of folk who prefer it to the Viennese waltz.”

“Do you?” She couldn’t help asking.

“Now, Rose, that would be tainting the experiment.” He grinned. “That’s bias, that is.”

“You’re daft,” she laughed. 

“Might be,” he allowed, “but I also happen to have this here time machine, and I reckon I know just where to take you to find your waltz.”

“You do?” She stopped. “Where? When? Is it in Russia?”

“Have to wait and see, won’t you?”

“Doctor! You can’t leave me hangin’ like that!”

“Says who?” He raised an eyebrow. ”Worked for Scheherazade, didn’t it?”

“You can be so annoyin’ when you want to be, you know that?”

“Now, Rose, is that a nice thing to say when I’ve just taken you to see the nice Russian dancers?”

“Fine, keep your secrets.” She huffed. “Least the TARDIS will know and she’ll help me choose the right clothes.” She raised an eyebrow. “Might even give me a clue.”

“Oi! What’ve I told you about subvertin’ me ship, Rose?”

She smirked. “Not my fault if she likes me better than you!” 

“The cheek of you!” 

They laughed and strolled on and as they walked, something occurred to her. Taking a deep breath, she gathered her courage.

“Doctor… would you consider maybe, dressin’ up next time?”

“What for?” he looked at her quizzically. “Fine the way I am, thanks.”

“Just...please? Just once?”

“What’s the point?” he asked in exasperation. “They can’t see what I’m really wearin’ anyway- perception filter takes care of that.”

“Yeah, I know, but I just thought...” She swallowed and tried again, terrified she’d say more than she meant to. “It’d just be...nice. If you did it. Just once! ‘S all.” She sighed. “Please?”

“But why?”

She sighed. In for a penny...“‘S just, you always hold yourself back from really immersin’ yourself from wherever, _whenever_ we are.” She exhaled. “You keep yourself separate, an’ the clothes are part of that. An’ I get it, I really do- you travel a lot, you meet lots of people and you keep yourself separate to stop from losin’ yourself in it, but I just…” She shrugged. “I just thought it would be nice, just once.”

He turned to look at her, blue eyes momentarily wide with surprise, before assuming a blank expression.

“Look, never mind,” she said, worried she might have pushed too far. “Don’t worry about it. You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Just forget I asked, yeah?”

“Rose-”

“We should head back,” she cut in, not wanting to hear what he might say at her silly, selfish request. Why should he open himself up to strangers? 

_To_ _her?_

He stopped walking. _“Rose.”_

She swallowed nervously. “Yeah?”

“S’pose I can think about it,” he said gruffly. 

“Yeah?” She breathed, amazed that he’d even consider removing his armour for her. “Really?”

“I’m not promisin’ anything, mind!” he admonished. “Just thinkin’.”

“Thank you!” She squeezed his arm tightly with both hands. “I just, thank you.” She beamed, hoping her smile said what she couldn’t.

Judging by his answering smile, it had.

She swallowed. The very thought of him in some sort of period costume... and for _her_ sake. She gulped. She needed a distraction. Fast. “You know, I’m gettin’ a bit hungry, actually. Mind if we head back?”

He looked over at her, eyes glinting in the darkness. “Your wish is my command.”

* * *

**_Fourth Movement: Tremolo_ **

* * *

Rose was fastening her fur-lined cloak when she was startled by a shout.

_“No!”_

It was the Doctor’s voice, and she’d rarely heard it like this.

_“Not that! Not those. Change it!”_

Rose rushed into the corridor, spotting a door that rarely appeared and knocked frantically. “Doctor? You alright?”

Silence.

“Doctor!”

“I’m fine Rose.” The forced cheerfulness in his tone made her cringe. “Be out in a moment.”

“I heard you shoutin’.” She bit her lip. “You sure you’re ok?”

“Fine,” he dismissed. “What you doin’ here anyway?”

“Told you, I heard you shouting. And your door was next to mine. Thought something was wrong.”

“It’s nothing. Just talking to the TARDIS.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “What about? You sounded livid.”

“Never mind, Rose- it’s nothin’.”

“Didn’t sound like nothin’.” She frowned worriedly at the door, half-wondering whether she shouldn’t try to go in.

“I’m right as rain, Rose, honestly.” His laugh sounded unnatural. “I’ll be out in a mo- meet you in the console room.”

“I...if you’re sure…”

“I’m sure. Get on with you, and don’t let Harkness touch anything.”

“Right.” She cleared her throat, pushing away her worry and ridiculous disappointment at his refusal to open up. “Yeah, ok. Just...you know, wanted to check.”

There was silence from inside the room and sighing, she turned away.

She’d hoped, after he’d first talked to her about Gallifrey that he might start letting her in more, but if anything, he’d clammed up even more since then.

“Rose.”

She stopped hopefully in mid-stride. “Yeah?” 

“You won’t be bothered if I don’t change clothes this time, do you?”

“Course not,” she said, trying to sound cheerful. Something was obviously bothering him and the last thing he needed was her making a fuss about his stupid clothes. “Don’t worry about it.”

There was a pause. “You sure?”

“Course, it’s fine.” She huffed a laugh. “‘S just clothes, Doctor.”

Footsteps approached the door. “Rose…”

“Doctor, honestly. ‘S fine.” She smiled for good measure, hoping fervently that he’d hear it in her voice. “There’s always next time.” Now she was the one trying to put a good face on it, wanting to spare him the worry over something so trivial. “I’ll just...I’ll go and wait in the console room, yeah? See you in a moment.”

With that she hurried away, determined to have her ridiculous emotions under control by the time he came out. She wasn’t so small that she’d add to his upset over clothes, and she deliberately pushed away the annoying voice that reminded her it wasn’t about the clothes, it was what they represented.

Barriers.

Much like his tendency to clam up when something happened.

She sighed. Yes, she wished he’d tell her what was wrong. But then, why should he, just because he’d opened up slightly, _once,_ just to be kind? What was she to him that she’d expect him to bare his soul?

“Idiot,” she muttered to herself, striding into the console room. “Stupid, stupid girl.”

“Who’s stupid?”

She looked up to see a grinning Jack Harkness perched on the pilot’s seat, looking her up and down. “Rosiiiiie! Look at _you!_ ”

She blushed. “I feel a bit ridiculous in this.” She smoothed the skirt of the red velvet ball gown, and tugged at its long train. 

“Well you sure as hell don’t look it! You look fabulous, honey.”

“Thanks,” she smiled. “Tell you what though, thanks for tellin’ me about fifty-first century corsets.”

“Comfy?”

“God, no! But at least I can breathe. ” She inhaled as deeply as she could. “If this thing is uncomfortable, I don’t even want to think about tryin’ to dance in a proper nineteenth century corset. No wonder women fainted all the time!”

Jack wrinkled his nose. “Well, that sounds needlessly unpleasant. Now, are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“What makes you think anything’s wrong?”

“Honestly, Rose, who do you think you’re talking to here?” He raised both eyebrows. “I _know_ you. Out with it!”

“‘S nothin’, honestly. Just a little disappointed is all.” 

“About?”

She shrugged. “Something I shouldn’t be. I’ll get over it.”

“Rose.” He fixed her with a look.

She fidgeted with her cloak. “Just...the Doctor isn’t dressed, an’-.”

“What _?_ Jack stared at as if she’d lost her mind. “What do you mean he’s not dressed _?_ Where is he? I need to see it and I need to see it now!” 

“No, you oversexed idiot!” She blushed. “Is that _all_ you think about? I mean, he’s wearing his usual clothes, leather jacket an’ all. He’s not dressed up.”

“Oh.” Jack’s face fell. “Why would you get my hopes up like that Rosie?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re the one who decided he was running through the ship starkers. I never said that.”

“Fine, fine,” he sighed. “Back to the point. So he didn’t dress up. He usually doesn’t. Which is a real shame, because wouldn’t I love to get him into some of the _tighter_ costumes in history, but he always refuses. So why are we upset this time?”

She sighed. “‘M _tryin’_ to tell you, Jack. ”

“So?”

“So, somethin’s upset him, I heard him shoutin’ at the TARDIS just now, and then he said he wasn’t changin, after he told me he’d think about it.”

Jack stared. “The Doctor? Shouting at the TARDIS?”

“Yeah.” She twisted the fabric of her cloak. “He sounded really upset. But he kept sayin’ everything was fine.” 

“Well…” Jack exhaled. “Now I understand the long face.”

“Yeah. That’s all. Just worried about him.”

“Sure.” He eyed her, and she shifted uncomfortably, hating that he could read her so easily.

“Look, he doesn’t have to tell me everythin’. Why would he?”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Why indeed.”

“Don’t start that again,” she sighed. “You know we’re just friends, you know he doesn’t see me that way.” She raised an eyebrow. “Why else would he keep those stupid barriers up all the time? He doesn’t let anyone in, Jack. ‘S why he doesn’t talk, why he doesn’t change and try to blend in- ‘s just one more barrier between him and everyone else.”

Jack opened his mouth to respond, only to stop and stare over her shoulder, mouth open. “Well, I don’t think there’ll be much barrier-holding tonight, ” he managed at last. 

“What? What is it?” She turned to see what he was staring at, only to gasp.

It was the Doctor.

But not the Doctor as he usually was, in his oversized leather jacket and nondescript clothing, keeping the world at bay. No, this was a Doctor she hadn’t seen before.

He’d changed.

Wearing what looked like a soldier’s dress uniform in stark black, accented with gold braiding, golden epaulets at his shoulders, and black gleaming boots to his knees, he looked sharp, breathtaking and utterly devastating. He looked different, _more,_ somehow. Less the man she knew but she couldn’t say why. It was just a costume for the evening, after all.

Wasn’t it?

At last, she managed a small breath. “Doctor.”

“Rose.” She felt his eyes burning her with their caress as he strode towards them, regal in his splendour. “You look...nice.”

“Thanks.” She felt as if she were on fire with his gaze. “You changed.”

Something shifted in his eyes. “I did.”

“Thought you weren't going to. ” She couldn’t take her eyes off him. “Glad you did.”

“Almost didn’t.”

“Why?”

“Wardrobe malfunction.”

“Where?” She ran her gaze over him in disbelief. “You look... _amazin’._ ”

To her surprise, the tips of his ears turned red. “Wasn’t what I’d planned to wear.”

“Why? What’s wrong with it?” she demanded, defying him to criticise the perfection he presented.

“The jacket.” He tugged at it, his smile fading. “Was going to wear a plain one. She took them all away and insisted on this one.”

“What? Why would she do that?”

“I don’t know.” He glared at the ceiling. “Tryin’ to force my hand.”

“What’s wrong with this one? It…” She drew breath. “I can’t even find the words, honestly.”

He tried to smile, failing to hide the turmoil in his expression. “I don’t have the right to wear it.”

Rose glanced at Jack, who’d been oddly quiet. He hadn’t whistled once or made a single off-colour remark and was staring at the Doctor’s shoulders, mouth open in shock.

The Doctor followed his gaze and his eyes darkened for a moment before covering his shoulders with a black fine-woolen cloak trimmed with gold.

“You ready then Rose?”

“Yeah.”

The Doctor flicked a few levers and pulled handles, but his usual mad dance about the console was absent. His movements seemed economical, precise and devoid of any humour.

Their landing was flawless, without a jolt.

Rose turned to Jack in shock, and the Doctor cleared his throat, attempting to smile.

“Right, we going?”

She opened her mouth to ask if he was alright, and then thought better of it. “Yeah.” She tried to smile. 

“Off we go then! Into the past.” The Doctor beamed, maniacal smile fixed firmly in place.

“You still haven’t told me where we’re goin’ yet.” Her smile felt a little more natural as she took his proffered arm and they ambled to the door, waving at Jack on the way out.

“You’ll see soon enough.”

“Yeah but how will I know-” She came to a dead stop. “Oh my God.”

“You recognise it then?”

“I...is this Russia?” She stared at the magnificent palace before her, resplendent with lights, unable to find the words to describe it. “Is this...is that…” She swallowed, shivering in the cool air. “Is this another opera house? In a palace?”

“Not quite.” He took her arm and guided her down the torch-lined path towards the palace. “It’s a palace, true enough. But it’s not an opera house.”

What?” She stopped, staring at him, shivering in cool air. Judging by the temperature it was late autumn. Almost winter. “You mean we’re goin’ to a _palace_ palace?”

“The Winter Palace, actually.”

“Oh, the Russian Winter Palace! Course we are. What for?”

“You wanted to hear the Russian waltz.” He shrugged. “They have one at every ball.”

“Yeah but I thought we were goin’ to a concert or somethin’. _Me_ at a royal ball?” She gaped. “Are you for real?”

“Why not? You went to the royal ball on Zilpeggia, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but…” she swallowed. “They played hopscotch! This is...what, a grand ball with lots of royal people?”

“S’pose you could say that.” Noticing her shivers, he took her arm and motioned her forward. “We’d best get in. You’re fragile creatures, you humans and don’t want you turnin' to ice before we even get there.”

“Doctor!” She exhaled in exasperation. “What exactly is this ball?”

He glanced sideways at her. “It’s called the Great Ball.”

“And?”

“And it’s held in Nikolaevsky Hall at the Winter Palace to open the ball season.”

She swallowed. “And the, what, King and Queen are there?”

“The Tsar and Tsarina, yeah, they’ll be here.” He frowned. “Best we avoid them, actually. Don’t want to go tempting fate too much.”

“’Kay…”

“So after we’re announced, best steer clear of them.”

“Announced? What d’you mean, _announced?”_

He shrugged. “Can’t avoid it. Have to go in the proper way or else we’ll be hunted down and locked up. Doubt you’d want to spend the evening in the Tsar’s dungeons.” He glanced down at his clothing in distaste. “‘S why we’re dressed in these circus togs, after all.”

“Right, OK.” She inhaled deeply.

“Rose.” He stopped. “Is this alright? I thought you’d like it, but if you don’t-”

“Course I _like_ it, you daft sod!” She laughed as tears inexplicably sprang to her eyes. “I love it! Just…give it a minute to sink in, yeah? You can’t spring it on me that we’re going to a royal ball in Russia in...when are we, anyway?”

“1891.”

“Right.” She drew a deep breath. “Do I have to do anything? I mean, is there somethin’ I’m not supposed to do if I don’t want to stick out?”

“You remember the rules from Regency England? When we visited Jane Austen?”

“Yeah. No touchin’ outside of hand shakin’ and hand kissin’ unless you’re married or family or the same sex and know each other well, no dancin’ with the same bloke more than twice unless you’re engaged or…” She trailed off. “Wait, if we’re bein’ announced, how will we explain why we’re together? I’m guessin’ they have rules about that sort of thing.”

“Usual story, make something up.” He cleared his throat and started walking. “We can tell ‘em I’m an uncle, or sommat-”

“An _uncle_ ? Absolutely not!” This time she was the one who stopped. “I am _not_ havin’ that!”

“Alright, alright, keep your hair on!” He turned to the side, seemingly trying to hide a smile. “Or we can tell ‘em we’re married. Should keep the pretty boys away, too, if you don’t mind that.”

“Good!

“Alright, then.”

“Fine.”

“Right.”

She hid a small smile, heart pounding as it did every time.

Reaching the enormous drive where gilded carriages were coming and going, the Doctor straightened up. “Right, now, which door should we aim for?” He stared intently for a moment and then shrugged. “Dunno which is which. Let’s try for it and see what we are tonight, then.”

“What?” She turned bewildered eyes towards him as they approached the magnificent edifice and made their way up the stairs behind the glittering guests. 

“Your rank determines which door you’re s’posed to use,” he said quietly, making his way to the footman and holding out the psychic paper- for once, removed from its wallet.

The livried man glanced at it and bowed low as they entered. “Good evening, Count, Countess.”

Rose’s eyebrows rose high. “Countess?” She touched her hair self-consciously, looking this way and that at her luxurious surrounds as servants came to remove their cloaks and usher them into the great hall.

The Doctor shrugged. “S’pose that’s us tonight, then” he muttered quietly as they followed the guests before them to the great hall, teeming with music and conversation. Glancing quickly at the psychic paper, the royal butler bowed, and turned to the noisy assemblage.

“The Count and Countess Gallifrey.”

Rose gasped and the Doctor froze.

“Doctor?” She whispered, glad to notice their entrance hadn’t been noticed by many, if anyone. “Are you alright?”

“Fine, Rose. I’m fine.” He tried to smile and moved forward jerkily. “Bloody jacket must have put it on my mind, that’s all.”

Glancing at his shoulders, she understood: the epaulets were emblazoned with the twin suns of Gallifrey on either side. Now she understood why he’d been so upset with the TARDIS- she’d obviously made him wear part of an old Gallifreyan uniform. It had clearly hurt, but he’d still worn it.

For her. Because she’d begged to see behind the barriers, just once.

Heart pounding with love and guilt in equal measure, she tried desperately to think of something to take that haunted look from his eyes. “S beautiful here,” she said quickly, looking around the blazing ballroom with its elaborate gilding and art and dazzling decoration. “I don’t think I’ve ever imagined a place so beautiful.”

He smiled, a pale imitation of his usual expression. “I’m glad you like it.

“Doctor, if this is... it’s too much, we can leave,” she whispered, heart aching. “You don’t have to do this, not for me. We can find a Russian waltz somewhere else.”

He smiled then; a real smile. “You mean that, don’t you? Here you are, dressed for a ball in a grand palace and you’d give it up if I asked you to.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “Course I would! In a minute. You know that.”

“I do.” His eye blazed momentarily with an emotion she couldn’t name. “You’d never guess to look at you how much courage and compassion is packed into that tiny human frame o’yours, but there it is.” He took a deep breath, closed his eyes momentarily and exhaled. “Right, we’re here for real Russian Waltz, and a Russian waltz it’ll be!” He cocked his head. “By the sounds of it, they’re about to start the Polonaise, so we have an hour before the Waltz starts.”

Rose nodded, pushing down her anxiety and trying to smile. “Right, an hour. Are we allowed to look around the ballroom?”

“Course we are!” He chuckled. “One of the main reasons they put on this circus is so they can show off!”

She smiled. “Right, well in that case, let’s go wanderin’ off...together.”

His eyes glinted. “Fantastic.”

* * *

**_Fifth Movement: Crescendo_ **

* * *

“I have the honour of addressing the Count and Countess Gallifrey, do I not?”

Rose cringed.

Their hour of exploration had passed quickly, gazing at the beautiful artworks adorning the walls, talking, and laughing, the shock of their entry finally forgotten. They’d managed to avoid the higher ranking nobles, but they’d still encountered a number of foreign nobles and dignitaries, who had only addressed them as “Count and Countess” (which was odd enough, thanks ever so), without mentioning Gallifrey. She assumed they’d missed the name in all the noise of their introduction and been glad of it. The memory of the Doctor’s face would haunt her for a long time, and every time they managed to avoid any mention of Gallifrey, she’d sighed with relief.

Until now.

They’d been trying to escape the crush and make for the balcony doors when she’d accidentally bumped into a handsome elderly man in a military uniform. They‘d exchanged apologies and commiserations about the stifling heat in the ballroom, and he’d introduced himself as Count Adrej Voskresensky.

And then proved himself to be the only person in the ballroom who’d been paying attention when they'd arrived. 

Feeling the Doctor tense next to her, she slipped one arm through his and curtsied to the older man, praying it was the right thing to do. “Pleased to meet you, Count Voskresensky.”

“The pleasure is mine.” Count Voskresensky bowed. 

“Likewise,” the Doctor managed, stone-faced. Rose subtly squeezed his arm.

“Forgive my impertinence, but you are English?”

“I am,” Rose said softly, when the Doctor remained quiet. 

“I’m from... further north,” the Doctor finally said.

“Ah, and may I ask where?”

“Nowhere, really.” The Doctor gave him a tight smile. “It’s been gone a long time.”

“Ah.” The Count cleared his throat, sensing he’d hit upon a delicate subject. “I fear I have offended. I apologise.”

“No need, no offense taken.” The Doctor cleared his throat, squeezing Rose’s arm in reassurance. “Hearing the title is a shock, is all. Never use it if I can help it.”

The old Count raised his eyebrows. “You prefer not to be addressed by your title?” 

“It’s nothing I’ve a right to.” Rose’s heart ached at the bleak look in the Doctor’s eyes. “The last of those with the right to use it died long ago.” 

“I see.” The other man's eyes softened. “It may surprise you to know that I too know the burden of bearing a title that by rights belongs to another.” He cleared his throat. “How shall I call you, then?”

“I’d take it as a kindness if you’d call me Doctor.” The Doctor straightened. “Only title I’ve a right to.”

“I see.” Count Voskresensky smiled broadly. “It would be my honour, _Doctor_. And in return, I entreat that you would call me the same.”

“You’re a doctor?” Rose asked, fascinated despite the circumstances.

“I was a physician for many years until the death of my elder brother. Though I no longer have the privilege of practising that honoured profession, it would please me greatly to be addressed as such.” He smiled. “Like your Doctor, I too consider it the only title I have truly earned.” 

“It must have been hard to give up,” Rose said softly.

He bowed his head in agreement. “Having been kept from my profession during my service in the Crimean War, I resented being forced to give it up again for a title I neither wanted nor deserved.” 

“Crimea was an ugly business,” the Doctor said quietly. “But then, war always is.”

“It was. And uglier still, in my eyes, for my place in it.” He eyed the Doctor’s uniform. “It is a terrible thing to ask a man of healing to become a man of war, no matter the cause.”

The Doctor said nothing, but Rose could have sworn that she felt his arm tense under hers.

Sensing that the conversation had become too heavy for a ballroom, the Count cleared his throat and changed the subject.

“Is this your first visit to our fair city?”

“I...it’s mine, but the Doctor has been here before.”

“Rose is desperate to hear the Russian waltz. Big fan.”

“I beg your pardon, but what is this _fan?_ I am unfamiliar with the expression, unless it relates to that which the lady holds in her hand.”

“It’s an English expression,” Rose broke in hastily. “It means I like it very much.”

“Ah, I see. Then you enjoy Russian music?”

“I…yes, I do.” She blushed. “I loved Scheherezade.”

“Ah, Rimsky-Korsakov! An old friend.” The old count made a face. “Nikolai is prone to melodrama if you ask me, but his music is a great legacy.”

“Wonderful,” Rose agreed, trying to hide her smile at his assessment of the composer. “I loved it.”

The Doctor didn’t bother hiding his grin, to her delight. “I’ve heard that about him, but the music more than makes up for it, I’d say.”

“Indeed.”

At that moment, the master of ceremonies announced the waltz, and there was a general rush of couples to join.

The count bowed. “I think this is, as your Shakespeare said, my cue to depart.”

“Oh, you don’t need to do that. I..I just wanted to listen, wasn’t planning to dance it.”

“Course we’re going to dance it!” The Doctor turned to Rose and held out his hand. “Didn’t think I’d bring you all the way here and make you stand and watch, did you?”

She cocked her head. “I know you don’t like to dance.”

“Well, we’re dancin’ this time.”

Unable to help the smile that spread across her face, she put her hand in his.

The Doctor turned to the old Count. “‘Scuse us.”

“With pleasure.” The Count nodded with satisfaction. “I hope I will have the pleasure of conversing with you later. If I do not, it has been a great pleasure to meet you Doctor, Lady Rose.” 

“You too....your Illustrious Highness.” Rose smiled. With a curtsy from her and a nod from the Doctor, they made their way to a remote corner of the dancefloor, her heart beating like mad.

“Right, you ready?”

“Yeah.” 

“You alright with the steps? Remember what we learned in Vienna?”

“Yeah.” She coughed. “I’ve been practicin’ with Jack, a bit.”

He scowled.

“Oh come on, it was harmless. It was after we got back from the ballet.” She blushed. “I wanted to surprise you.”

His expression softened. “Did you, now?”

“Yeah.” She said shyly. “I won’t win any competitions but I can follow the steps, if you know how to drive us.”

“Oh, so _now_ you trust me driving.” He cocked an eyebrow as he gently placed a hand at her waist and the other behind his back. The warmth of his hand at her waist made her gasp as she took her skirts in one hand and tentatively placed her other on his shoulder. They were still a respectable distance apart, they’d certainly been forced into closer contact than this during their escapades, but for some reason this hold felt incredibly intimate and exposed. 

Blue eyes met brown, and held.

She swallowed.

“I always trust you,” was all she said.

His smile made her heart beat all the more quickly, and she began to wonder if she’d manage to survive this night without fainting after all.

The orchestra began to play, a rich, melancholy melody that made her think of regal mourning, and the Doctor exhaled, a look of bitter amusement on his face. 

“What?” she asked, as he stepped forward, driving her back.

“Nothin’, just the waltz they chose,” he said as he gently guided them in gliding circles around the floor.

“Oh.” 

Moving silently for a time, she absorbed the music, loving its rich melodic tones, the mournful strains that tugged at her heartstrings. Moments later, the Doctor spun her, again and again as those same tones turned to joy tinged with desperation and moments of great, reckless passion before descending into melancholy once more.

Now _this_ was a waltz she could understand. It wasn’t happy and airy and fluffy- it was dark, mournful, passionate and hopeful, and it called to her soul in a way that the happier tones couldn’t. And maybe that was because of her- because she’d seen too much, suffered too much to be able to connect with happy, light, perfect tones. 

And the Doctor had known that, had known she’d need something real, something imperfect and flawed and passionate and beautiful. Glancing at the Doctor, seeing the self-deprecating look on his face, the breath caught in her throat.

_She needed him._

God, did she ever.

Catching his quizzical expression, she swallowed. “This waltz is amazin’,” was all she could manage.

“You like it then?” His smiled belied the turmoil in his eyes.

She shook her head helplessly. “I...it’s gorgeous. Dark and sad, and passionate and desperate and...”

“It speaks, then?”

“It speaks,” was all she said, and then she sighed.

“What?”

“Nothin’, just...I realised that _this_ Russia is gone now. It was this great empire, with amazin’ music and art and literature, and in my time it’s gone, in a way. All this,” she gestured to the glittering palace, the orchestra and the artwork and people. “They’re just relics. They’re not alive anymore. It’s not the same.”

“Nothing ever is,” the Doctor said quietly. “Things change. And this world- it’s gone, but the music, the culture it lives on, the _people_ live on, Rose.”

She sighed. “I know. And I’m not sayin’ it was good or right- livin’ like this when so many people couldn’t rub two crusts of bread together. It’s just…” she looked around, blinking away tears. ”It’s such a waste, in the end. They had this great culture, this great learning and power and they could have done so much with it, you know? And instead they just hoarded it, like they hoarded the wealth, and…”

“I know,” he said quietly.

She blinked again. “I don’t know these people, I’m sure they’re a right mix, I’m sure some of them are kind and some of ‘em are right bastards, just as I’m sure lots of people are suffering from the way things are. But what came after was horrible too.” She blinked again. “I wonder what the Tsars would have done if they’d seen what it would do, what was comin’.”

“The signs were there,” the Doctor said quietly. “They saw it coming. They had it all and they let the power, the wealth, the knowledge, the reverence blind them to the plight of everyone else. They forgot that everyone and everything is interconnected, in the end.” The look in his eyes pierced her heart. “Like so many before them, they were drunk on their own story, their own greatness and hubris, and in the end those same people they discounted set fire to the world.” 

“And what came after was hell for everyone, for a long, long time,” she said quietly, aching for him, knowing that he was also speaking of his own people, his own planet.

The Doctor nodded wearily. “Everyone thinks of the revolution, everything thinks of the war, but no one thinks of what happens after, and it’s almost always much, much worse than what they were fighting against in the first place.”

Forcing away her tears, she watched him as they danced. It was so easy to forget, really, who and what he was, because he played the part of the roving, eccentric nomad so well. But now, with this music that portrayed him so well, in this place with a history so like his own, she saw him completely at last. Devoid of armour, in a uniform he had earned the right to with blood and sweat and tears, head held high with the light of grief in his eyes, her mad Doctor was gone and in his place was the last of the Time Lords; regal and princely, his stark, saturnine beauty fully revealed.

His eyes were fixed on her with such intense emotion that it almost hurt to look at him. So much tragedy and sorrow, regret and compassion and guilt, all intermingled with an intensity and dignity to make the man she loved.

“Doctor,” she said quietly, her heart ready to burst with all she felt. “What’s the name of this waltz?”

He held her gaze and his eyes, usually so mysterious, were laid heartrendingly bare. 

“Broken Strings.” 

Her heart broke, and in that moment, she knew what she had to do. Her love for him burned every fibre of her being at seeing him so broken and dejected, and even knowing he was far beyond her reach, she couldn’t have hidden it to save her life. And she didn’t want to, now. This was _her_ gift to him, for all he’d given her. It was all she had to offer; her love for him when he thought himself damned, unlovable, damaged.

So she let him see. She gazed proudly at him with everything she had, hiding nothing, her head held high, even as she trembled in terror.

His eyes blazed. 

Her breath caught but she didn’t look away. Though she was afraid, she wasn’t ashamed of her love; she was proud of it and she wouldn’t hide any longer. She owed him that, owed herself that and whatever he said later, whatever he did, it would be worth it.

She loved him and she wasn’t ashamed of it.

But God, she was terrified.

The music came to an end and they slowly spun to a stop, panting, his hand at her waist, hers still clutching his shoulder, the applause of the other dancers scarcely registering as they gazed at one another; wide-eyed, intent, afraid.

“So now you’ve heard it,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.

She wasn’t having any of that. She was done pretending. And she wouldn’t let him pretend anymore either.

“Now I’ve heard it,” she agreed, eyes burning into his, willing him to understand that she wasn’t talking about the waltz anymore. “And it’s _beautiful.”_

“You don’t mean that. It’s dark, mad. Tainted. Broken Strings, Rose,” he said darkly. 

“I do mean it.” She didn't look away. “It’s sad and powerful and hopeful and _real_. I’d choose it over a perfect piece any day.”

He stood, his eyes guarded and burning blue fire.

“Hopeful?” he said quietly, inching closer.

“Yeah, didn’t you hear it?” She seized his arm and moved closer, intensely trying to make him see. “There was hope, too.”

His eyes blazed. “I like hope.”

“Me too,” she swallowed. “Even when it hurts. Even when…”She took a deep breath. “Even if it’s foolish.”

He stood stock still, his gaze burning into her soul. “Hope isn’t foolish, Rose.”

“No?” She swallowed, blinking away tears. “What about when you hope for something so far out of your reach that it’s a joke? Something bigger and better than you’ll ever be? What about then?”

“Never.” His voice was low, fierce. “Never that.”

“Why not?”

“Because, Rose Tyler, nothing is beyond _your_ reach.”


	3. Second Waltz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and Rose's musical exploration lead them to one inevitable conclusion. Or beginning, depending on how you look at it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooooo my lovelies! And here it is- the final chapter of this saga (and for those of you who have peeked behind the scenes of this fic, you'll know it has been EXACTLY that getting it done). We've come to the end of this little tale, and I hope you've all enjoyed it.
> 
> They key piece for this chapter is another favourite of mine, to which I am emotionally connected to to a stupid degree. It's the [Second Waltz](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lzJq0FPjtaE), by Shostakovich. I cannot recommend this enough- please, please, please listen to this beautiful music and imagine ODC waltzing away!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this chapter (and the music!), thanks so much for coming along for the ride! It's been amazing and your response has truly touched me. 
> 
> I have to give a HUGE shoutout to Rose_Nebula for her beta, her patience with my multiple sendings of chapters, and ALWAYS finding time to review and offer genuine and constructive feedback. You have been fabulous throughout this drama and I cannot thank you enough! <3
> 
> And now, it's on with the show!
> 
> All mistakes are mine (boy, are they ever).

* * *

_**First Movement:** _ **_Concerto_ **

* * *

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

It was a fair question. Gazing at her reflection in the dressing table mirror, a subtle pulsing in the back of her mind, Rose considered it. She thought of everything that had happened since she’d met the Doctor, seemingly years ago. 

(It might have been, come to think of it. It was hard to keep track of time on the TARDIS.)

She thought of the wars and terror and bloodshed, and nearly losing him to a drug-fueled warlord on Zithra. She thought of fighting with him, the agony of being held at arm’s length for months and months. She thought of her self doubt, and his self-loathing, and the mutual certainty that their love was unrequited. She thought of her terror that she’d never be enough for him, and his certainty that he was too broken, too tainted for her. She thought of dancing in a palace, all those months ago, and how it had stripped away their barriers and started them on the slow, stumbling path towards the inevitable. She thought of their tentative steps since then, old fears dying hard as they circled slowly closer and closer.

She inhaled, and thought of the Game Station and how it had stripped away any sense of pace or control and forced them to face what was. She thought of her fury at being sent away, and of the fear and determination thathad brought her right back. She thought of her own near-death, and his, at the hands of the Vortex. She thought of choices, and changes, and confessions and at last, acceptance.

And love.

She smiled, and the pulsing grew slightly more pronounced.

“I’m sure, mum.”

Jackie fidgeted, looking at the floor. “I wouldn’t blame you, you know. No one would. ‘S not too late to back out.”

“Mum.” Rose turned to look at her mother, the pulsing falling into a tune she almost thought she knew, fading back to the edge of her consciousness. “I know. I’m sure. This is what I want, _he’s_ what I want. Forever.”

“I know you want him _now._ ” Jackie blinked back tears. “But it’s all so different from what I imagined for you, an’ now _you’re_ different, because of him.” She sniffled. “I just don’t want you doin’ something you’ll regret.”

“I won’t regret it.” Rose took her mother’s hand, the gentle swaying of the pulse in her mind amplifying her happiness, slowly building. “You know, ‘s not because of him, mum. He didn’t do anything- I was the one that did it.”

“What?” Jackie’s eyes grew wide in horror.”You never. How could you have?”

“It’s true. Remember that light, when I opened the TARDIS?”

“Still see it in my nightmares.” Her mother dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “I’ll never forget it as long as I draw breath.”

“I took the power of the TARDIS into me, all of time and space. I looked into the TARDIS and the TARDIS looked into me,” she said softly, the pulsing seeming to shift slightly before falling back just out of reach. “My choice is already made, mum. I chose him. I chose to stay with him, and I did what I had to to make sure he’ll never be alone again.”

“Oh, Rose,” her mother’s voice shook, hand at her mouth. “What if you regret it, though? You’ll go on and on forever, an’ I’ll be gone, everyone you know will be gone and then what will you do?”

“I won’t regret it and I won’t be alone because I’ll have him.” She smiled, the familiar-yet-unfamiliar song pulsing at the back of her mind for a moment. “I _have_ him. A man who loves me more than his own life, more than anything in the whole universe.” She blinked back tears, the pulsing seeming to absorb her emotions into itself. “He was willing to die, mum, an’ he was willing to give up the TARDIS, just to save me. He would have died to save me even after we got away”- she ignored the flash of remembered anger at his sheepish confession about regeneration- “if the TARDIS hadn’t shown me how to stop it. I don’t regret what I did and never will. How can I?” She shook her head. “You can’t want more for me than that, because there _isn’t_ more.”

“No,” Jackie sniffled, dabbing carefully at the corner of her eyes. “S’pose you’re right, can’t ask for more than that.” She sniffled. “Even if it is Himself with the big ears and the big mouth.”

Rolling her eyes, Rose turned back to her dressing mirror, the pulsing settling back into its comfortable barely noticeable pattern. “Come off it mum, he’s fit and you know it. Now, are you goin’ to help me with my hair or should I get Jack in here?”

“You’re not too old or grand to be put over my knee, Rose Tyler, magic changes or no magic changes!” Her mother glared. “Letting Captain Flirt do your hair instead of me- honestly, the cheek of you!”

Rose hid a smile. “Alright then.”

“Get your hands out of my way,” Jackie huffed. “I’ll show you how to do it _proper.”_ And with a few deft movements, she’d pinned up Rose’s hair. “You sure you want this feather, though?” She frowned. “Bit silly if you ask me. Not off to the bleedin’ races.”

“Yeah, ‘s important mum.” Rose smiled. “Trust me.”

“Alright,” Jackie said doubtfully, pinning it gently. “There you are.” She tilted her head. “Well, feather or no feather, you look lovely, love.”

“Thanks.”

“Right.” Jackie exhaled. “S’pose we’d better get you dressed, unless you want to go to Himself in that dressing gown of yours.” She eyed the garment draped carefully on the bed. “You sure you want to wear _that_? Blimey, looks like somethin’ off the telly.””

“Yes.” Rose stood and slipped off her dressing gown, holding out her arms.

Jackie shook her head and slowly laced her daughter into the corset before buttoning her into the gown. “Well, I hope that’s done it. I’ve never seen anything like this before.” 

“It’s old,” Rose smiled. “From a long time ago.”

“When?”

“1869.”

“Blimey. ‘S like something from Queen Victoria.” Jackie exhaled, shaking her head. “Well, it’s lovely, anyway.” She swallowed. “You look beautiful, love.”

Rose turned to face the mirror, seeing the black and burgundy velvet gown she’d worn to meet Charles Dickens so very long ago, heart thrilling at the memory of the first time he’d really _seen_ her.

The pulsing grew more pronounced.

“Remind me to tell you the story behind this dress, one day.”

“Must be a whopper of a tale, if you’re wearing that to stand up with himself instead of a proper wedding dress.” Jackie sighed. “But then I s’pose it’ll do since this isn’t a proper wedding.”

“Mum,” Rose sighed. “Don’t start, yeah?”

“I’m just saying, Rose, it can’t be a proper wedding! No wedding dress, no church or flowers or guests, only me an’ Captain Flirt.”

“I told you mum, this is how the Doctor’s people did it.” Well, almost. This was no Time Lord ceremony, about dynasties and cementing bloodlines, rife with stifling ceremony. It was a simple, heartfelt Gallifreyan ceremony that the Doctor had long envied and never thought he could have. “This is a proper weddin’ for them. ‘S supposed to be intimate- just the couple and a few witnesses, from their close family.” Rose eyed her reflection with a soft smile. “And this dress is... perfect for that.”

“Alright, alright, don’t bite me bloomin’ head off.” Jackie shook her head. “I’ll never understand the pair of you. And I s’pose at least he agreed to have a _proper_ wedding back in London.”

“Yeah so can’t you just... stop worrying about everything and let me be happy today?”

Jackie’s expression softened. “I just want you to have the wedding of your dreams, love. I don’t want you to look back and feel you’ve missed out.”

“I’m not. And you and Jack are planning the wedding in London, aren’t you? So you can put in whatever you want.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jackie sniffled, seizing Rose in a careful hug. “I want you to be happy and however daft it seems to me, I know Himself makes you happy.”

“He does.” Rose squeezed her mum tightly, the comfortable thrumming back at the edge of her consciousness. “I love you mum. You know that don’t you?”

“Oh get on you with you,” Jackie sniffled. “Come on, let’s get moving before that ruddy alien decides to come looking. S’ unlucky. Here, take these and let’s go.”

Rose accepted the bouquet Jackie pulled carefully from a box sitting on the bedside table.

And gasped.

They looked like... they couldn’t be. 

Could they?

“Where did you get these?” she asked softly, reverently touching a soft golden petal, the pulsing almost taking song for a brief moment before settling back into its comfortable pattern. 

“Captain Flirt brought it in.” Jackie circled Rose, inspecting her handiwork. “He said they were a present from Himself, wanted you to have _something_ from a proper wedding for the... _bonding_ , today.”

“Did he say what kind of flowers they were?”

“Slink blossoms.” Jackie shrugged. “Something like that.”

“Schlenk blossoms,” Rose breathed, her mind thrumming. 

“That was it. Made a right fuss over them, he did too. Was carryin’ them about like he was carryin’ a baby. Thought he was going to bow when he put them down. They’re nice enough flowers, I don’t mind saying, very nice, but still just flowers.”

“They…” Rose cleared her throat, blinking away tears. “They’re really rare. They’re from Gallifrey- the Doctor’s planet. From...before.” She sniffled. “He has some in his garden but he never looks at them. S’ too painful.”

“Oh.” Jackie blinked rapidly. “Well. That’s...nice. A nice gesture. I’d never have thought it of Himself, really.”

Rose shook her head, dabbing carefully at the corner of her eyes. “Admit it, you’re goin’ to cry.”

“I am not!” Jackie sniffled and glared. “‘S just the pollen.”

“Oh come off it.” Rose laughed, clutching the flowers as her heart pounded and her mind pulsed, almost in perfect harmony. “You’re crying.”

“Well, and why not?” Jackie demanded, dabbing at her eyes. “My only daughter is... _bonding_ with an alien today. Reckon I’m allowed a few tears.”

The TARDIS hummed gently.

“What was that?”

“She’s happy,” Rose said, voice wobbling slightly, the pulsing momentarily louder. She pressed a kiss to the nearest wall. “Thank you girl, for all you did and helpin’ me every step of the way,” she whispered. “We’re a team now hey? You and me. We’ll keep him in line.”

Lights flickering and another hum.

She turned to find her mother staring. “It’s really alive, then? You weren’t havin’ me on?”

“Course she’s alive.” Rose stroked the wall. “Best ship in all of time and space.”

Another hum.

“Can it...she...understand me?” Jackie looked doubtfully at the console.

“Course she can.”

Jackie took a deep breath and awkwardly patted the wall. “Nice spaceship.”

Rose snorted.

“Oi, you’re not too old to be put over my knee, madam!” Jackie glared. “‘Scuse me for not knowing how to talk to machinery- they didn’t teach that when I was at school.” Taking a deep breath, she stared at the wall uncertainly. “Thank you,” she said doubtfully. “If you can hear me. For taking care of my Rose...and keepin’ himself in line. It helps to know she’ll have someone to keep an eye out when I’m gone.”

The TARDIS responded with flashing lights and a hum so strong it rattled their teeth. 

“She likes you,” Rose smiled.

“Well, that’s a blessed relief,” Jackie muttered. “Otherwise I’d probably end up on Timbuktu instead of London.” She fixed the wall with a look. “Don’t be getting any ideas, mind! She cleared her throat. “Now, we going?”

Rose smirked and gestured her mother forward, the gentle pulsing in her mind seeming to gather itself.

“An’ I’ll have no more of that, my girl, or you’ll be attending your own wedding…”Jackie rolled her eyes, “Alright, _bonding,_ then, with my footprint on your behind. And don’t you think I won’t!”

“I _know_ you would,” Rose retorted, and then sobered. With a deep breath, she turned to her mirror one final time. Looking at the image she presented, she could only hope that the Doctor would like it. Heart beginning to pound, she felt as though a clock had started counting down. “Guess it’s about that time.”

“S’pose so.” Jackie twisted the tissue in her hands. “Captain Flirt said to just come up when we were ready, no alien fanfare or what have you.”

Rose laughed, unable to help it, the thrill and the joy suddenly so great she couldn’t keep them contained. “Well, I’m ready now.”

“Oh, Rose, you look beautiful,” her mum sniffled. “‘S like nothing I’ve ever seen before but you look just lovely.” She fidgeted. “It was hard, you know. Watching you gallivanting off to all these places with Himself, seeing new things and coming back talkin’ about all these things I didn’t know. Felt like you were leaving me behind.” She shrugged. “I thought you were ashamed of me, of where you were from and that’s why you always went away.”

Rose’s eyes filled and she blinked the tears away, taking her mum’s hand, the pulsing comfortingly thrumming in the back of her mind. “Oh, mum, no, never! You’re my mum, I’m proud you’re my mum, and that will never change, not in a million, million years.” She sniffed. “No matter how long I live, I’ll always be proud to be Rose Tyler from the Estate. I don’t travel to get away, I do it because there’s so much to see, so much to learn and know an’ I love it. I’ve seen things I could never have imagined and it’s all down to the Doctor, mum. Because he wants me to learn what I want to learn, see what I want to see. He loves me the way I am, and he wants me to have the world.”

“I know,” Jackie dabbed at her eyes. “An’ I see that now, sweetheart. I’ve never understood why you always wanted to go off doing new things, _mad_ things, if you ask me, but I’m glad you have it, now. An’ I am proud, so proud of you Rose, of who you’ve become, and just...look at you, love. You’re glowin’.”

“Thanks, mum.” The words came out on a sob and she carefully dabbed at her face again.

“Right, that’s enough o’that! Best not get makeup on that getup!” Jackie sniffled. “Won’t do at all. Come on, let’s get ourselves up and go up to...where are we anyway?”

“Zoralia,” Rose said, trying to settle her emotions. She was so happy and everything seemed so _big_ today that she could barely keep it all contained. “‘S a planet. There’s a natural, pulsing telepathic field here. Make it easier for us to bond.”

“So, what, you go up and knock your heads together?”

“No,” Rose laughed. “Nothing like that. ‘S all done with the mind.”

“You’re tellin’ me you’ll be able to _read_ his mind?” Jackie gaped as they made their way out of her room.

“I have to learn how, and not unless he lets me- he has shields.” She inhaled, the pulsing flaring for a moment. “The Doctor says it will be like being’ able to touch him or talk to him using my mind. Like hands or mouth- just with the mind.”

Jackie’s eyes widened in alarm. “He can do that, though? Read minds? If he wants to.”

“He can, yeah. He’s had a lot of practice, but don’t worry mum,'' Rose laughed, “He doesn’t go into someone's mind unless he’s asked.”

“Thank the Lord for that,” Jackie muttered as they entered the console room. “Bleedin’ alien reading _minds_ , if you don’t mind.”

Feeling the pulsing grow stronger, Rose opened the doors to emerge into the blissful surrounds of Zoralia.

“Blimey,” Jackie gaped, gazing at the lush green fields, carpets of multi-coloured wildflowers and stately trees of deepest green. “It’s bloomin’ paradise, is what it is.”

“Close to,” Rose said quietly, basking in the peace and tranquility, the pulsing growing stronger to follow a slow, steady pattern. “The Doctor landed us here before it was settled, so it’s just us.” She took a deep breath of clean, fresh air as the subtly pulsing telepathic field washed gently against her mind, her newly awakened telepathic receptors singing at the contact. 

“So there’s no one else here?” Jackie stared out at the fields. “At all?”

“Not now.” Rose turned her head and met the Doctor’s gaze across the way. “People come here sometimes to recover from telepathic damage. The planet has a really gentle field that helps with that. Think of it like...I dunno, healing waters for your mind.”

“Telepathic damage…” Jackie said slowly, turning to her daughter. “Is this where you came then? After?”

“Yeah.” Rose took a deep breath. “We spent...five cycles here, ‘s like a month, in our time, so we could recover from the Game station.“

Jackie nodded slowly. “I knew you’d been hurt, knew you would be, when I helped you get back-” Her voice trembled. “But I just thought Himself had fixed it.”

“He did, in a way,” Rose smiled. “He helped where he could, but we also just needed time here. We needed somewhere peaceful.”

Jackie drew a deep breath, seemingly forcing herself to let go of her memories of Rose going back to the Gamestation. “Well, this is that.” She looked around her with new eyes. “Nice and calm, isn’t it? Peaceful and...fresh, somehow.” She turned back to Rose. “A good place for a wedding, sorry…. _bonding.”_

“Yeah.” Rose smiled, still gazing at the Doctor, Jack a little way behind him. “Yeah it is.”

Jackie drew a deep breath. “Right, let’s not keep Himself waiting.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe that just came out of my mouth.”

Rose laughed, her eyes fixed on the Doctor as they moved forward, absently stepping in time to a tune she didn't know. “Your secret’s safe with me, mum.”

“Get on with you, then.” Jackie laughed, her voice trembling. “Can’t believe I’m in outer space for my daughter’s alien _bonding_.” 

“Neither can I, mum.” Rose smiled at the Doctor, though he was too far away to see it, the pulsing growing louder again. “Neither can I.”

As she drew closer, the pulsing intensified, and the beat of her heart sped up to match it when she was close enough to see that he was wearing the black and gold uniform she’d seen once before, emblazoned with the twin suns of Gallifrey on each shoulder.

Deliberately, she took her place in front of him, her mum taking the bouquet and standing sniffling to their right, Jack to their left. 

She drew in a breath when she saw that he was eyeing her dress, his gaze burning a path down her body and somehow blending with the pulsing in her mind. His eyes were seething with emotions, only, they weren’t a mystery any longer. She could identify them, now; sorrow for his dead planet and guilt for destroying it, there was shock and pleasure, likely at her choice of dress, longing and homesickness. And love.

For her.

She gazed at him just as openly, letting him see it all, everything she had, and his eyes seemed to glow in return. 

“Blimey. You look beautiful.”

“For a human?” She smiled, tongue touching her teeth.

“For anyone, anywhere in time and space.” He grinned sheepishly, the tips of his ears turning red. “Never going to let me forget that, are you?”

“Never,” she laughed. 

Jack coughed, intruding on their moment.

“Excuse me, not to cut this flirting short- and believe me, ordinarily I am _all_ about the flirting, but can we get on with this?”

“Yeah,” Jackie muttered. “I don’t need to see you eye-shagging my daughter. ‘S too much for me.”

“No it isn’t! It’s not enough!” Jack folded his arms and glared at the two of them, sniffling back tears all the while. _“No one_ has waited for this moment as long as I have and I am absolutely done waiting for you two! Get on with it!”

The Doctor rolled his eyes. “Remind me why we brought him?”

Rose shrugged. “He’s family.”

“Honestly the lot of you.” Jackie sniffled discreetly. “Is there some sort of ceremony? Or do you just suddenly connect your brains?”

“No,” the Doctor said, his eyes returning to Rose. “Not as such. Only our vows and then we bond.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Which involves?”

“We announce our intentions, make our vows, and then...we bond.” The Doctor drew a deep breath and spoke quietly enough that the others couldn’t hear. “Rose, are you-”

“Don’t you dare ask me if I’m sure,” she cut in, the pulsing and her heart seeming to build to a regular tempo, together. “I’m sure. I _want_ this Doctor.”

“You know the human way would be enough, you don’t need to-”

“Stop,” she interrupted him quietly, the tempo getting a little faster. “I want this, I _want_ to bond with you, to share our minds and our timelines and our lives. I want to be yours in every way, Doctor. In _every_ way.”

“Yeah?” His eyes burned with emotions he couldn’t put into words. But she could read every one.

“Yeah.” Her own eyes burned gold for a moment, the TARDIS glowing with her. “And make no mistake, Doctor, you’ll be _mine_. In _every_ way.”

His eyes glistened and he blinked rapidly. “S’pose I can live with that.” 

“Ahem!” Jack called, tapping his foot. “Waiting! If somebody doesn’t start this bonding now, I will _not_ be responsible for my actions.” He waggled his eyebrows. “ _Any_ of them.”

“Shut it, Harkness,” the Doctor growled. With another long look to make sure she was certain, he took a deep breath and spoke in a low voice, resonating with emotion. “I offer myself to you, Rose Tyler, Daughter of Jacqueline. If you’ll have me.”

“I will,” she said, her voice steady, her eyes sure, placing her right hand in his left, and his right in hers as the TARDIS had shown her.

The tempo grew faster again.

“”I come to you as I am.” He looked briefly at his clothing, turmoil in his gaze. “Bearing the scars of my past, I offer you the hope of my future.”

She inhaled as the tempo seemed to quicken again, the very breath from her lungs vibrating with it.

“I pledge myself to you for the time given me, until I am returned to dust. I offer you all that I possess; my home, my mind, my heart and my name, if you will accept them.”

“I accept them. I will treasure your gift, and honour it.” She took a deep breath and faced him calmly, her voice steady as she spoke the words she had memorised. “I offer myself to you, Time Lord, Son of the House of Lungbarrow, if you will have me.”

“I will.” His eyes burned blue fire.

“I come to you as I am.” She glanced momentarily at her dress, a memento of the first time an Estate girl had realised that a Time Lord could _see_ her. “I come to you with the scars of my past, and offer you the hope of my future.”

His eyes caressed her form reverently, taking in every last detail, and burning her with their intensity. 

“I pledge myself to you for the time given me, until I am returned to dust. I offer you all that I possess; my home, my family and my mind and my heart, if you will accept them.”

“I accept them.” His voice was rough, gravelly. “I will treasure your gift, and honour it.” He exhaled and leaned forward, touching his forehead to hers. “Are you ready, Rose?”

She smiled. “Been ready forever, just waitin’ for you to catch up.’” 

With that, she closed her eyes and felt him gently caress the outer edges of her mind.

_Rose._

She saw him with her mind’s eye, watching her across a deep chasm, as her chest seemed to tighten and the pulsing grew louder.

_Doctor?_

_That’s me._ He tried to grin. _Hello!_

 _Hello,_ her avatar smiled.

His smile vanished. _Are you sure love?_

_If you ask me that one more time…_

_Touchy, touchy._ His smile was back.

_Stop ruinin’ the moment and get on with it, Time Lord._

She was hit with a blaze of emotion so strong she felt it in her bones, and the pulsing became drumming, loud and compelling.

_Your wish is my command._

Another pulse. 

Time and space seemed to be coiling in on itself.

 _Wait for it…_ He stood anxiously, waiting across the chasm.

Another. 

She dropped the shields he’d lovingly built for her after the Game Station.

_Now!_

They locked eyes across the chasm.

And leapt.

_The drumming tempo broke into full song._

She felt him gently kiss her lips as their minds met, wrapping slowly together, the song now loud and clear and everything blazed a burning gold.

A song she suddenly found she knew: the song of the TARDIS, the beat of the Doctor’s hearts, and now her own.

Gradually, it faded to a faint pulsing in the back of her mind, and it was just her and the Doctor, and the two astonished onlookers.

And the rejoicing TARDIS, still singing.

Slowly, the Doctor with his eyes still closed, leant close and, trembling, whispered a single word into her ear.

She closed her eyes at the beauty of it; at this last, precious sign of his trust and her possession of his heart.

His name.

Opening her eyes, she blinked back tears at his fiery blue gaze.

There was so much to say, but she couldn’t think how, or why. So she said the only thing that came to mind.

“Hello.”

He laughed, and kissed her, his reply resounding in the halls of her mind.

 _Hello_.

* * *

**_Second Movement: Poco a Poco_ **

* * *

_“Still don’t know why I have to wear that,” the Doctor grumbled to her mother. “Ruddy domestics, that’s what it is!”_

_“You’re wearing it because I said so! And because you can’t get married in a leather jacket that’s older than Moses, that’s why!”_

Rose covered her mouth to smother her laugh. The telepathic link between her and the Doctor was wonderful and intimate and amazing and more than she thought she’d ever have.

It also provided her with some of the most ridiculous conversations she’d ever heard.

Usually between the Doctor and one Jackie Tyler.

_“Why not? Why do I need to wear a ruddy monkey suit?”_

_“Because, it’s a wedding, you plum!_ **_Your_ ** _wedding! To_ **_my_ ** _daughter!”_ Jackie glared. _“And you can’t get married in a leather jacket!”_

Feeling guilty for laughing at her poor bewildered Doctor, especially when he’d (very grudgingly) put up with everything her mum had wanted for this wedding she decided to help him out. Fishing out her mobile, she dialled her mum.

“Rose? Is everything alright sweetheart? I’ll be with you soon to help you get ready.”

“Everything’s fine, Mum...just...cut the Doctor some slack, yeah?

Jackie huffed loudly into the phone. “You’ve been eavesdropping on me with that Star Trek voodoo again!”

“Mum, I’m not eavesdropping.”

“Then what do you call it?” Jackie demanded.

Rose rolled her eyes. “I was talking to him when you showed up and started tellin’ him off!” 

“You’re not meant to see him until the wedding!”

“I can’t _see_ him, mum.” Rose rubbed her forehead. “I’m _talking_ to him. ‘S like talkin’ on the phone.”

“Except you’re not talkin’ on the phone, are you? You’re doing some weird Star Trek bit. Unnatural, that is.”

“Mum-”

“Don’t you _mum_ me, Rose Tyler.” Jackie took a deep breath. “This is my only daughter’s weddin’ and we’re doin’ it _proper_. When you’re out there in the stars one day, a million years in the future, you’ll look back on this when I’m gone, and you’ll remember where you’re from, this Estate, this city, this planet, and you’ll remember your mum. You’ll remember what a _proper_ wedding was, and that you had one with your mum and your friends and family.”

There was silence for a moment.

“Maybe I can’t be part of your other life. I belong here, and nowhere else. But Rose belongs here too. She’s from here, she’s _part_ of here, even if she belongs with you too. Today is about Rose Tyler from the Estate, marryin’ her bloke, in a nice suit and a wedding dress.”

 _She’s right_ , _love,_ came the Doctors voice in her mind. _It’s part of your life here with your mum. Let her have this, you’ll be glad of it, one day._ He paused. _S’pose I’ll have to stop complaining about this ruddy monkey suit, then._ Another pause. _And don’t tell her I said that._

She smiled in spite of herself. “Alright, mum. Just...take it easy yeah? ‘S my weddin’ day and I don’t want any fightin’. Please?”

Jackie was silent for a moment. “Fine.”

“Fine,” she heard the Doctor grumble. “Spose I can put up with it this once.”

“Alright then, mum, I’ll see you in a minute.”

 _And I’ll see you up the aisle,_ she whispered into his mind before retreating.

* * *

**_Third Movement: Rondo_ **

* * *

“Blimey, he’d said he’d change, but I didn’t expect _that_.” Jackie fanned herself as she peered down the aisle.

“Mum!” Rose shook her head. “You’re not seriously perving on my husband are you?”

“Not your husband yet, madam!” Jackie glared. “And I wasn’t perving- just looking.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “Right, yeah, well you told him to change.”

“Yeah, but I thought he’d wear a morning coat or something!”

Rose smiled. “‘He hates suits, there was no way you were getting him in a morning coat.”

“Well...” Jackie cleared her throat. “He looks a bit of alright in that modern navy suit of his.”

“Yeah.” Rose smiled as she recalled why he’d chosen it.

 _S’cuse me, I wore it._ **_You_ ** _chose it._

She smiled at his voice in her head. _Yeah. You know why?_

_Your mother is a sadist and enjoys seein’ me suffer?_

She rolled her eyes. _No, you daft sod. Because it brings out your eyes._

“You’re doin’ it again, aren’t you?” Jackie’s voice intruded.

“What?”

“Don’t you ‘what’ me- you were doing that-” Jackie wiggled her fingers in the direction of her head. “And you know you’re not supposed to see him until the wedding!”

Rose rolled her eyes. “I didn’t mum, I told you- we’re just talking.”

Jackie folded her arms. 

Sighing, Rose ended the connection. “Alright, alright. We’re done. Just...let it be, yeah?” She smiled. “Today’s s’posed to be a happy day, innit?”

Jackie’s eyes softened as she looked at Rose in her lace fit-and-flare off-the-shoulder gown. “Well.” She made an unnecessary adjustment to the cathedral length veil. “You make a beautiful bride, Rose.”

“Thanks mum.” She smiled. “You look pretty amazin’ in that dress, by the way. Reckon Howard from the fruit shop’ll like it.”

Jackie blushed, smoothing her pale pink cocktail frock, chosen by none other than Jack Harkness. “I dunno what you’re talking about.”

“No idea about the pyjamas I found tucked into the cushions on the couch, either?” 

“Enough of that.” Jackie cleared her throat. “Come on, it’s time. I reckon we kept that ruddy alien waiting long enough.

“It was your idea to be late,” Rose pointed out as they made their way to the church atrium. “ _Proper_ wedding tradition.”

“Oi, cheeky!”

Rose laughed as she took her mum’s arm.

“I’m glad you chose this place,” Jackie said suddenly, just before the doors opened out into a _very_ familiar little church. “I know I was against it at first but I’m glad. You’re right- in a way, it’s almost like Pete’s here.”

“Yeah. He is,” Rose said softly.

With that the doors opened, and Rose and Jackie made their way down the aisle to where the Doctor stood waiting in his new navy suit, and Jack behind him in full RAF dress uniform. 

The Doctor’s eyes locked with hers as she approached and she barely noticed as Jackie put her hand into his and slipped into the front pew with Howard and Mickey.

Rose saw nothing but the Doctor.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here…”

* * *

**_Fourth Movement: Partita_ **

* * *

“I can’t believe they’re married!” Jack blubbered. 

Jackie rolled her eyes and passed him her hankie. “‘S supposed to be the mother of the bride who cries, not the best man.”

“Not true!” He blew his nose. “It’s their wedding and I can cry if I want to.” He raised an eyebrow. “Besides I saw you dabbing your eyes during the service.”

“It was the flowers. Pollen in my eye,” Jackie muttered. “Those Schlenk flowers have too much pollen.”

“Ha! _Sure_ they did.” He grinned. “Admit it, you were emotional over Rosie and the Doc.”

“Well, what of it? She’s my only daughter and she went and-” she lowered her voice- “married a ruddy alien!”

“But a _fine_ alien!” he whispered, eyes lingering on the Doctor’s behind as he followed Rose from table to table to greet the guests, looking more and more pained by the minute.

Jackie rolled her eyes and gulped her champagne.

“Jackie.” She looked up at that serious voice. “You know he loves her don’t you?”

“Yeah, I know,” she said, staring at the tablecloth. “God help me, but I know.”

“And he’ll love her until his last breath,” Jack said intently. “He’ll do anything and everything for her and heaven help anything or anyone who tries to harm her.”

“I know.”

“And she loves him.”

Jackie nodded, still staring at the tablecloth.

“She’ll do anything to protect him, Jackie. From anyone.”

Another nod.

He took a deep breath. “You know, things happened to me on the Gamestation too.”

Jackie looked up. “Rose told me. ‘M sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He gave her a lascivious grin. “So many lovelies, so little time. Now I’ll have time to _savour_ them all.”

“Lech.” She tried not to smile at his outrageous comment.

“But you know, Jackie, endless potential lovers aside, I’m glad of it. You know why?”

She shook her head.

“Because it means that your daughter loved me enough to bring my sorry carcass back.” He smiled softly. “We’re...family. I haven’t had that in...a very long time.” He looked her in the eye. “And I promise you, she’ll always have me. They both will. I’ll keep an eye on them both.” He cleared his throat and waggled his eyebrows. “Especially if the Doc wears those pants. Who knew the twenty-first century could do _that_ to a man’s behind?”

Jackie rolled her eyes. “You know, you and that...ruddy alien are always welcome.”

“I know, you’ve always been good about having us over-”

“No, I mean...” Jackie cleared her throat. “‘S nice having the family over for a visit.”

“Oh.” Jack sat frozen for a moment. “Thank you. That...that’s nice.” He cleared his throat, blinking. “Even if it does mean I can’t do unspeakably naughty things to you any longer. Since we’re related.”

“Oh, go on with you,” Jackie laughed. “I don’t believe you’re half as bad as you make out, you know that?”

“Oh I am.” He waggled his eyebrows. “But I’m also very, _very_ good.” 

“Shut it,” she laughed. “Oh, wait, they’re coming up to the front.”

“Ooooh it’s time for the first dance.” Jack squealed. “Look at them! They’re gorgeous together!” He sighed. “Such a shame they don’t share…” seeing her warning glare, he added hurriedly, “Never mind.”

Rose and the Doctor made their way onto the dancefloor to the sound of applause and Jack wisely didn’t mention the stony expression on the Doctor’s face (that it melted as soon as he looked at Rose).

He cleared his throat and looked at Jackie. “They chose the Second Waltz. Know why?”

“No idea. Never heard of it.”

“I asked the Doctor.” Jack fixed his eyes on hers. “He said it was because Rose was his second chance.”

Jackie’s eyes filled as the soft strains of a clarinet began to play.

“That’s...that’s lovely.”

* * *

**_Fifth Movement: Waltz_ **

* * *

“You ready, Doctor?” 

“Always, Rose.”

They waited for their cue as the clarinet slowly and sombrely led the way. As she placed her hand on his shoulder and carefully took hold of her skirt with the other, he gently and possessively placed his hand at her waist, drawing her close, reminding her of their dance at a Russian ball many months before.

They had danced to a Russian waltz then too.

Only this time, there was no mournful tune with rare bursts of desperate joy. Now, there was a melancholy start, reflective and pensive, followed by a compelling burst of power and light and joy.

The strings launched into full voice, the power and beauty of the melody nearly bringing her to tears as they moved, gliding gracefully across the floor, twirling in joyous circles, breaking apart only to join together again, following the path set by the music. As she listened to the gorgeous melody, with its highs and lows, a tenuous thread of hope even in the lowest, most subtle places, she thought how perfectly suited it was to them- highs and lows, forceful, powerful and yet quiet, peaceful, undertones of sadness and tragedy driving intense joy and vigour, and always, always pushing forward.

 _What is it?_ His voice broke into her thoughts.

She smiled. _Just this waltz. ‘S perfect. It’s us._

His eyes caressed her as they danced. _It seemed appropriate. Second Waltz for my second chance._

Rose’s eyes teared up as they turned and spun, and always, always coming back to each other.

And that, Rose thought, was what it was all about. The music was them and they were the music, singing, hoping and _loving_ , gliding through the highs and the lows into the future, whatever it would bring. 

And it would bring a great deal.

But that’s another story.

_Fin_

  
  


  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come follow me at countessselena.tumblr.com


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